Saving Face
by PaisleyRose
Summary: He had lost, and failure didn't come easy for this mighty Goblin King, this prince of the Fae realms. He was not about to take it sitting down, no Fae worth his salt would... After all he had to save face! Than to force her in to repeating the journey?
1. Chapter 1

_**Saving Face**_

_**By **_

_**Paisley Rose**_

_***&***_

_**A Labyrinth tale**_

_**&*&**_

_**Disclaimer**_

_**It's not mine.**_

_**If it was it wouldn't have be wasted**_

_**On Manga…**_

_***#***_

_***&Author's note&***_

_**I was inspired to write this because of a sketch.**_

It's by the artists~ G672 _on Deviant Art_ _The picture is called An Old Sketch._ _It was done for another Fan Fic._ _I hope I did it justice._ _Thanks._ _*&*_

_**Prologue **_

_**Taken from the words of A.C. Smith;**_

_**And from the final Labyrinth Script…**_

_**Changes by moi.**_

_**Hoggle popped up from behind the bed. "Yes, if you ever needs us ... for any reason at all ..." He stared at her from under his bushy eyebrows, and started to fade. **_

_**Sarah said, "I need you, Hoggle." Her voice broke with emotions she had kept inside. She had given up so much to win back Toby; she was not willing to give up everything. She turned her head slightly, fearful of tears spilling and ruining her moment of triumph.**_

_**The dwarf gasped slightly, thinking only a moment before he was ready to say good bye to the girl. "You…you do?" Was there hope, was she willing to keep the magic alive?**_

_**She nodded, feeling guilty. "Every now and again, in my life, for no reason at all," she turned to face the bed, this time the citizen of the Goblin Kingdom was there. Her first friend and companion in the Labyrinth. He had not vanished as Ludo and Sir Didymus had. "I need you, I need all of you." **_

_**"Well why didn't you say so?" huffed the dwarf as he scurried over the top of her bed. At that instant the room filled with those who were able to find their way into the girl's chambers. Shouts of joy and greetings filled the room as Goblins, Fierys and others scrambled into the mortal realm as the portal opened wide between the worlds.**_

_**"Sometimes," the Wise Man observed, "to need is ... to let go." **_

_**"Oh, wow!" said his hat sarcastically. "And that's just for starters." **_

_**There was laughter, merriment and chaotic celebrating. The girl with beautiful green eyes had no fears now, she'd won! She's won back her brother, and won the right to keep the child in her heart alive. She kissed the dwarf, thinking nothing of the action. She'd hugged the great orange beast of the goblin forest. She caught a spiral of confetti as it was shot out from above by the hand of a fiery. The room was full, and there was music playing somewhere. Sarah danced jubilantly. There'd be time enough tomorrow to start growing up, tonight she needed to celebrate.**_

_**Outside the dark window, the white owl had been perched with his claws hooked on a branch, an effigy of watching and waiting. Now he swooped away over the park, on silent velvet wings, up toward the full moon. Nobody saw him, white in the moonlight, black against the stars, because nobody looked. **_

_**But someone should have, someone should have.**_

_**Chapter1. **_

He landed in the clearing and he transformed to materialize into his humanoid form. This outward appearance, handsome and powerful, didn't give a hint to his real nature. He came to rest beside the obelisk he had landed on in owl form only hours before. The white feathery cape fluttered softly in the gentle breeze. The faded tones of cream, gray, and tan looked more washed out and discolored than when he had approached the girl for their final conflict in the ruins of the puzzle room. He was drained; his skin looked gray, as gray as his breeches. He staggered over to the obelisk exhausted; it took his last fragment of strength to maintain his stance. Breathing was an ordeal, as he was now totally exposed to the elements and the contaminations of the mundane world. The protective mantle of magic seemed to be as rent and torn as his garments.

Anger flooded his being. With the flat of his hand he struck the granite pillar, shaking it to its core. The rock ore itself cried out, and Jareth quickly removed his hand. He turned his back on the column, faced the pond of water where he had watched the swans so often. Water usually brought him freedom from strife, this time it did not. All he could see was the figure of the girl in that gray costume she had worn racing over the stone footbridge as she headed home complaining of the unfairness of her life. That blasted girl, who had gotten the better of him, overcoming his efforts to trounce her. It should have been simple; she was only a girl, only a mortal girl at that! He should have easily defeated her, and left her with nothing except her begging for his mercy. That blasted girl! That annoying intriguing, delightfully beguiling girl!

"Sarah," his voice still caressed the name. "How could you be so blind?" Jareth lamented her refusal and her rejection, "How could I have been so… careless?" He had underestimated her. Sarah Williams was unlike any other human he had come into contact with. She was one of the few who still believed, one of the few who kept magic alive in her heart. More importantly, she was resourceful; he'd forgotten to take that into consideration. Now he was, as mortal men would say, in deep shit. Everything he had achieved over the years was now in jeopardy of crumbling away; all because _**he had lost his head over a girl**_. He closed his eyes and blocked out everything but the fact that he had a crisis on his hands. The crisis had to be address quickly if he were to maintain his power over the citizens of the Labyrinth. His was a dog eat dog world, where everyone looked out for themselves. They only admired Jareth because they all wanted his position at the top of the heap, and he'd kept his status because he was the most terrifying of them all. How terrifying could he be if it were known that he'd been beaten, in eleven hours and by… a girl? His staying in control meant that he had to keep the subjects he ruled fearful. No one would fear a Fae who had been so lenient. His eyes tightened in pain as he recalled all the times he had backed off and let the girl go. No goblin would understand why he'd let the girl off so easily, not one. His mind reeled, well maybe one, one he didn't want to think about. That_** One**_ he planned on making damn sure paid for his~ _**betrayal**_.

It did no good to close his eyes; there was no peace to be had. Not now that he was thinking on the one goblin that might have some empathy. Closing his eyes, his mind showed him one image; the one image he had been trying to block. The more he tried to block it, the more vivid it became. _**The dwarf scurrying over the top of her bed, her kissing the dwarf, thinking nothing of the action; this was the image he could not escape.**_ Stormy eyes opened and a roar escaped his lips. How dare she kiss that little scab, when she could have had him? How dare she prefer a creature of the dirt when she could have had something majestic, something exceptional? He bent over, spent from the efforts of fulfilling her wishes, her desires, and all her blasted _**exhausting expectations**_. As he rose up from the howl, the frail garments he had worn upon their last contact vanished like vapor and once more he was dressed in Goblin Armor. His regalia, complete with the midnight cape, renewed his energies as it drew from the energies of the dreams of thousands of innocent dreamers and of thousands of nightmares. He should have been wearing it all along, he scolded himself. One should never underestimate one's foe, and he had underestimated her. He had taken too lightly that she was just a mortal girl. He would not make that mistake twice. No, he would not make the mistake of falling under her beguilements again. There was a good axiom to remember: Hold your friends close, but hold your enemies closer

"Refuse me, will you?" he inquired with a dangerous glint showing in his eyes. He was now looking over his shoulder toward the direction of the Williams home and the victory celebration. "Celebrating with your friends is premature, my dear girl." His voice trembled with resentment. "You may have won round one, but you are only a mortal… and I am Fae. I will not be so 'generous' when next we encounter each other." He walked to the center of the bridge and looked over its edge at his reflection in the dark waters. "This is far from over, little girl. Mark my words, Sarah Williams, you are about to incur the costs of having trafficked with the Fae. Tonight, the piper will be paid." He began to laugh as the waters beneath him began to ripple and then churn.

--

Sarah sat on her throw rug watching Sir Didymus play scrabble with the wise man. She laughed along with everyone else in her bedroom as the hat kept score. With each outrageous remark the old wise man became more flustered and demanded to know on whose side the hat was on. Only Hoggle seemed to be worried about something. He had left the gathered throng and had taken a seat on the cushion of her window seat. He had become a sentinel, staring out into the darkness. Every now and then he'd shake his head, groaning to himself. Getting up, she walked over to where the dwarf sat staring out the widow. "What are you looking at," she asked.

"Nothing," he sounded vexed. Still he stared out the window, searching the sky for a glimpse of the night bird. He had scrutinized the branches of the tree earlier, and found nothing. Not even as much as a bit of captured downy fluff on the rough bark or a talon mark. It was unnerving.

"Then why look?" she asked, shrugging innocently.

"Because there should be _**something**_ out there," he said turning to look at her. "I hate to be the one to remind you; we are not the only ones who know about you."

"Who else knows?" she challenged defiantly.

The dwarf shook his head, "There you go again, taking things for granted." Turning away he looked out the window. "Haven't you learned anything this night? _**He**_ should be there," he muttered. "_**He**_ should be here."

"He?" Sarah asked as if she had no idea of whom the dwarf was referring to, but her eyes suddenly opened wide.

Hoggle gave a sideways glance her way, "You know someone else who should be here, but isn't?"

"I beat _**him**_," she said defiantly, refusing to even use the name that the dwarf had used several times during their journey, "Fair and square. He's now~ harmless, no more dangerous than a bad dream, or a passing thought. He's_** powerless**_!"

"I can't use that word," Didymus said, thinking she was trying to give him help. "I don't have the letters for it. Thank you, my Lady." The knight went back to his game. His opponent however looked at the pair sitting at the window with interest. Didymus had to remind him twice that it was his move.

"Shows what you know," Hoggle groused. "Powerless? Whatever gave you the idea that he was powerless? He's out there, fuming and plotting, if I knows him… And I knows him!" Dread and trepidation were in the blue eyes of the dwarf, his jaw trembled and he shuddered as he sighed. "You didn't take away his powers, you wounded him! Stands to reason, the most dangerous kind of animal is a wounded animal, and _**he's**_ nothing if he don't have his pride. You've knocked the wind out 'o him Sarah, and by now he's had a chance to catch his breath." He knew well enough the ways of the Fae to be frightened. No, make that to be terrified of what his _**Fae King**_ was plotting. "The Fae don't like to lose," he warned knowingly. "No, they don't like it at all." Hoggle's eyes went once more to the skies, searching for the harbinger of doom. "You don't know them like I do. They are vain, petty creatures who turn vicious over something as innocent as a misspoken bit of praise. This," he shuddered, "this is a call to war."

Biting down on her lower lip, she ran a hand into the hair over her left shoulder, "But he has no power over me," she argued half heartedly. Even she didn't quite believe it; she remembered something that she'd rather forget. There had been a moment when she had almost forgotten Toby. There had been a moment when she was enchanted by the handsome Goblin King. In that moment she had nearly given her soul to him, nearly. Even now she could feel his embrace; she could smell the spicy scent of him on her, and she could hear his song. Her heart beat a little faster, her face flushed, and she trembled ever so slightly. Her eyes seemed to lose their focus for a moment as she repeated the words once more. "He has no power over me…"

Cocking his head to one side the dwarf looked at her with pity. "He had no power over you making your decision in the Labyrinth~ in choosing your brother over him. And don't you think for an instant that he's going to be understanding about that! I wouldn't say he has no power over you, I wouldn't say that at all." He pointed toward her dressing table, and the statuette that resembled the Goblin King. Hoggle had been trying to ignore the effigy, but now found it demoralizing and intimidating.

"It's a statue, nothing more," she said; instantly regretted her choice of words. "I've had that thing for years," she defended her ownership of the object. "It means nothing."

"ah huh," Hoggle sighed. "He's in your head already."

"He is not," declared the girl a bit too forcefully.

"Is too," the dwarf accused. "Wouldn't be surprised if he knows your very thoughts and your heart beats." Hoggle looked at the other subjects who were still celebrating, "We have to go," he said to Sarah. "Face-downs are between the two warring parties, or so I'm told. And a face-down is coming, coming fast. You drew a line in the sand and he's not going to just let it set there. He's going to cross it, if he's not already crossed it by now." He moved to the center of the room. "Time to leave," he announced harshly. "Gather what you came with. It's time to go."

Sir Didymus had been smiling, but the smile faded as he looked at Hoggle, "Friend Hoggle," he questioned, "What ails thee?"

"The King is on his way," Hoggle said gravely pointing to the portals that were opening. "We don't want to be here when he gets here, do we?"

"I'm outta here," one fiery cried out and ran through the wall leaving his left foot behind. Goblins guiltily followed the Fiery's exit after having retrieved the abandoned foot.

The wise old man lumbered toward one of the exit portals that had opened; reaching out a hand he guided Ludo toward the opening. "Sometimes the best way of winning is to lose gracefully," he said over his shoulder, hoping the girl would understand his meaning. That's what learning is, after all; not whether we lose the game, but how we lose and how we've changed because of it and what we take away from it that we never had before, to apply to other games. Losing, in a curious way, is winning.

"Forget telling her anything," the hat scolded. "She has to do it her own way, you know that. Let's just get while the getting is good." Shrugging, the wise old man from the garden lumbered toward the portal. "Adios senorita," the hat called craning it's high thin neck at the last moment.

Sir Didymus stood up, gathered his courage, and valiantly offered, "I'll stay my lady, if you so wish."

Hoggle looked at the little Goblin Knight, "Did you not hear me? _**Jareth is on his way**_!" The Goblin Knight nodded, but didn't move. Hoggle, fearing for the old knights very being, turned to Sarah, "You don't want us here," he suggested strongly. "Tell him, or he'll stay…" Hoggle could read the wavering in the girl, and added intensely, "We're already in hot water for the help we gave you. If he stays, it could be his ruin!"

"I'll be fine, Sir Didymus," Sarah said in a voice that sounded eerily calm.

"But, my Lady," protested the little knight. "I am forsworn…" he made a sweeping gesture with his arms. He looked about for his staff that had gone missing.

"I'll be fine," she said again before bending over and kissing his forehead. "Good night sweet knight. Sleep well."

Hoggle grabbed the arm of the knight, the only remaining goblin in the room. "Good luck," Hoggle said over his shoulder. "You're going to need it."

Once she was alone, the girl with green eyes began to whisper a strange little mantra, "You have no power over me, you have no power over me, you have no power over me..." The room felt still; too still. Her skin tingled, the same sensation she had just before the owl had flown into the nursery during the storm. She looked at the window; it was locked. The silence in the room drew her eyes to the clock on her desk. The hands had frozen at half past twelve. There was not a tic, not a tock. Sarah looked once more at the window, her hands clenched into balled fists at her side.

"Looking for someone," the voice asked from behind her, as hot breath bathed her ear.

Sarah screamed as darkness gripped the room, even though the lights were all on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

Leather clad hands gripped her like talons from behind and held her in place. "Scream your fool head off, little girl, for all the good it will do you," his voice was rough and hinted at violence. "This room is outside the bounds of sound and time for now, and will remain so until I say differently." A cruel laugh vibrated in his throat as the malicious words poured out of his mouth. "Mommy and Daddy can't hear you, precious. You're mine now. Care to beg for mercy?"

"What do you want?" she struggled to be free, but only felt fingers dig deep into her forearms. She stopped struggling, and waited for the adrenaline to kick in. She knew the rush would be coming, it had to be. She had counted on that rush more times than she cared to admit to during her trials in the Labyrinth. Surely it would not fail her now.

"A settling of scores," he crooned in her ear, "is in order, don't you agree?"

"Settling of scores?" she repeated, refusing to turn and look at her foe.

"You're not unfamiliar with the term, are you?" His breath inundated her ear as he spoke; he felt the quiver of apprehension race through her and smiled. "You have a great deal to be held accountable for, _**girl**_." The last word sounded more like a slur.

"I didn't mean to wish my brother away," she argued in a restrained voice, fearful of someone overhearing no matter what he had said. The last thing she wanted or needed was her father, or worse yet, her stepmother to know what she had done. She'd never live it down if Karen learned what she'd done. Karen would take it out on her in ways she didn't even want to consider. She was sure her father also would never find it in his heart to forgive such a betrayal. "How many times do I have to tell you that?" Her voice sounded like a pitiful plea, even to her. "It was all a misunderstanding!"

"I'm not talking about the _**baby**_," he teased maliciously. "_**For now**_," he chuckled as she quivered again. "And I don't for one moment believe that you think that I am. No, I'll get to that bit of business in time. For now, I'm talking about what _**you**_ owe _**me**_, girl; you and you alone."

His voice seemed to fill the room and her head. Unable to contain the soft moan that had escaped her throat, Sarah closed her eyes thinking if she could not see him, she was safer. She was wrong, closing her eyes only made her more aware of him. His scent, hot and spicy, filled her senses assaulting her fragile awakened awareness and she trembled uncontrollably. All of the events of this evening had left her exhausted, and that tiredness was settling in on her. The hands that had been holding her arms now moved down over her to hold her in a horrifyingly wonderful embrace. Instinctively she clasped her hands under his, trying to hold on to her resolve. Something in the room had changed and she felt hot dry air blow across her face. She opened her eyes quickly to find herself on the windswept hillside outside the Labyrinth. The outline of a castle in the distance was all she could see in the darkness. "NO!" she gasped in protest. "You can't bring me back here! I won, damn it, I won!" She tried to back up but it only placed her closer to the man standing behind her. The feel of his rock hard muscles sent eclectic shocks shooting through her.

"I misjudged you," he confided coolly. "Underestimated you~ no ~ your resolve. However, this time there is no _**baby**_ for you to rescue," his hands tightened. "This time there is only _**you**_, only _**me**_. No outside interferences, and no outside distractions," his lips curled as he taunted. "Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"You can't do this, it's … it's not fair!" she stomped one foot in the sand. All that did was to put sand into her loafer.

"I'm impressed," he teased. "And disappointed," he growled. His fingers on his right hand twitched. "We are no longer restricted to the thirteen hours," he warned. His fingers twitched again. "I've taken you outside the bounds of time and space. This time it won't be over until I say it is."

"Stop that," she said looking down suddenly at the hands holding her tight. "Take your hands off me!" she commanded. "You have no power over me!"

"That's the girl I remember," he chuckled, however his hands remained where they were. "Get a good head of steam up, precious." He suddenly shoved her down the hillside into the black abyss that was beneath them. As she tumbled into the darkness, he warned in a voice she could barely make out. "You're going to need it."

The air was knocked from her lungs with the fall, into the darkness of the valley she tumbled over and over until she lay sprawled at the foot of the hillside. Shock registered in the green eyes. He had shoved her, that son of a …. Taking a moment, she collected her senses. It was dark at the bottom of the hillside, like night. But then, it had been dark when she'd taken her first turn in the Labyrinth. There was no telling what time of day it was here, as the hours didn't always line up with the hours in the mundane world. Her mind raced as she remembered him saying something about taking her out of the bounds of time~ what the hell did that mean? Could he do something like that? She sucked in air, trying to fill her depilated lungs.

"Get up," he ordered sharply as he arrived scant moments after her. "We've a long way to go." His tone was bitter and his mood was foul.

"Go to hell," she said angrily as she sat up, "You bastard." Defiantly she glared up at him.

"Watch your manners, young woman," he warned coldly. "I have no cause to be civil to you this time around. You will address me as Your Majesty or as My Lord," thinking of her saying such things brought a cruel curl to his lips.

"You call the way you treated me before civil?" her voice raised an octave and sounded scratchy. She had ignored the command on how to address him.

"Far more than you deserved," he snapped before he reached down and grabbed her by the arm. His strength had returned, and should there be observers to this tête-à-tête he wanted them to understand that the _**big bad**_ was back. He had not expected to enjoy the little bit of torment, but found that it was exhilarating, like an elixir that was replenishing his strength. "I would remind you, little girl that it was you who called upon me! My answering your pitiful cry was very generous indeed. And look what I got for it; you've made a shambles of my Kingdom!" His voice came through gritted teeth. "I hope I don't have to remind you that I am the King here, and you… you are nothing."

"Nothing?" she pulled free of his grip. Her voice shook with defiance and rage. "I am not nothing," she declared rounding to stare impertinently, her head held high as she glared. "I'm the girl who just beat your Labyrinth! Even after you cheated and took time from me and used every dirty trick in the book, I still beat you!"

"Oh boo hoo hoo," he mocked, crossing his arms and looking down on her. "The big bad Goblin King took hours away from you, boo hoo."

Seeing red, not caring who he was, Sarah lunged at him with her hands out stretched. "Damn you!" she shouted.

Jareth easily avoided her attack, and when he sidestepped, sent her falling to her knees. "You were saying," he mocked again.

Sarah looked up at him. "It isn't fair," she complained. "I won. I'm not supposed to have to do it all over again. I won!"

"Round one," he conceded with a smirk. "You took round one. This is round two." His facial expression changed slightly. "Care to surrender now and save us both the time and effort?" He scoffed at her indignant expression on her face and ridiculed her with his next sentence. "I'm sure I can be persuaded into seeing that you are given every consideration due you. _**Throw down your weapons and I'll see that you are well treated**_." He jeered using Sir Didymus' words.

Determined not to fail, Sarah stood up and brushed off the sand that was clinging to her jeans. "Not on your life," she growled. "I beat you once. I can do it again." She flung her hair over her shoulder confidently. "So what is it this time?" She had expected her body to obey her, but her knees felt like jell-o. It was all she could do to maintain her balance. But maintain she did, not wanting him to see weakness or fatigue in her. "This some kind of duel?"

"Such resolve, such fortitude and willpower," he mocked congenially. "I would have been gravely disappointed if you had surrendered. It'll be so much more _**satisfying**_ to win by grinding you under my heel," his lips curled. "And I will grind you under my heel this time, little girl. No more Mr. Nice Guy, I'm finished with being generous with silly spoiled little mortal girls like you."

"You," she mocked in return, "Generous? Ha!"

Fires flamed in his stormy eyes and his face hardened. "You have no idea just how generous I've been, precious." His mind raced, reliving every moment he had spent watching over her. Every little aid he had allowed and given, even as he was maneuvering the game so that he would win. As he recalled being dragged into her fantasy of a ballroom, he seethed.

Knowing she had crossed a line, but angry enough not to care about consequences, Sarah challenged him. "I'd like to know how."

"Never once in your entire journey were you out of my sight," he retorted in a voice that was constricted with anger. "Not once." His eyes traveled down her body, taking in the hidden lines of curves under the shapeless linen shirt. "I'd say that was generous, wouldn't you?"

His inspection of her gave her a strange feeling. She was insulted, outraged, and more than a little indignant. Trying to shake off the feeling of sullenness his gaze was causing, she countered. "You're nothing more than a a-a-a- a peeping Tom!"

"Be glad that I am," he murmured smugly. "Otherwise you'd be hamburger. This is the first and only time the cleaners missed a mark." He could see his gaze was unnerving the girl. "What's the matter, Sarah? Can't take the heat?"

Stubbornly her chin rose up, and she stared into his eyes. "Can you?"

The curl left his lip, and he moved closer to her. His eyes were locked into hers, "How hot do you like it, precious?" his voice rasped.

Sarah swallowed, exhaled, and tried not to flinch. "How hot can you make it?" It was foolish to challenge so powerful a being; to egg him on was hotheaded and impulsive. Something told her she was treading in shark infested waters and that she should back down, that she should try reasoning. However, the look on his face pissed her off. It was like playing with a butane torch, knowing you were going to get burned and wanting to see just how badly. The trickle of adrenaline she'd been awaiting rushed over her giving her nerve to crank it up just a notch.

A leisurely measured indolent smile replaced the sneer he had been aiming at her. "Oh, precious," he teased in a voice that was actually purring. "I can sizzle." He saw how she was digging her heels in, refusing to back down. "Still think you want to test these waters?" He inched his way toward her, waiting for her to capitulate, turn tail and run. It had been his experience that mortals did just that. Turn tail and run. 'She's just an ordinary girl,' he kept telling himself, 'Mortal and unworthy.'

Sarah's brain was aware of dangers she had not recognized or acknowledged. Blaring alarms were going off inside her head but she was ignoring them. He was getting closer and closer, and she still refused to be moved or run off. However, breathing was becoming difficult and her heart was pounding so hard it hurt. His spicy scent was filling her lungs and nostrils and her lips parted as she tried to drag air into lungs that were refusing to work. "Bring it on," she challenged through clenched teeth.

Jareth paused; he was inches away from her. "If I do," he warned, "There's no going back. I won't alter time, I won't hold back." He tilted his head just slightly, "Still sure you wish me to~ bring it on?"

Sarah held her breath for an instant, her heart pounding in her chest and a strange ringing in her ear. The next thing she said sealed her fate, "I'm not afraid of you."

Rocking back on one heel, Jareth looked at her with more mirth than he knew existed in one being. "Oh you should be, little girl…" one hand moved to cup her chin, and just as quickly his hand withdrew. "Either way, I intend to eat you up and spit you out." He vanished with a lewd chuckle.

"You bastard," she called out into the dark air. "You haven't even told me where I'm supposed to go… or do. What's the point of this challenge?" She was now alone in the night and at the bottom of the windswept hillside grumbling to herself about cheating Goblin Kings. When last she was standing here it was dawn. Now it was night and she was not sure just how deep into the night it had gone. She missed the warmth of the sun on her skin, but she braced herself and headed toward the dark shape ahead of her. It had to be the outer wall, and the gate was just ahead. "Hoggle will open the gate for me again, maybe," she said. "That has to be where he wants me to go, that stupid gate."

Zigzagging and watching for the reflective pool that most likely didn't reflect anything, she moved through the same rocks and shrubs, where the rising sun had lit her way earlier. The closer she came, the darker and more foreboding the wall became, and a pang of fear began to pick at her.

Leaning against the wall beside the gate, as if he had all the time in the world, stood the Goblin King. "What kept you?" he asked in a lazy drawl. He stood tall, stretched a bit, and smiled. "Ready to go in, or have you thought over surrendering?"

"Cut the crap," Sarah marched forward. "Open the gate and let's get this over with."

Jareth laughed, "My sentiments exactly," he announced as he waved and the gate opened.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

Hoggle watched in horror as the Goblin King appeared at the gate. He franticly looked up the hill and didn't see the girl. For one moment he had breathed a sigh of relief. It dissipated as the girl appeared out of the darkness. He could not hear the exchange of words from where he was hidden in his hut; however he could read their facial expressions even at this distance. The King was bitter and driven, and the girl was insubordinate and rebellious. The dwarf groaned and wished he could warn the girl. As his king raised his arm and the great wooden gate of the Labyrinth opened, Hoggle observed the pair enter.

"No Sarah, don't go in there," he moaned. Sarah had not heard his pitiful warning; she was too far from where he stood. Helplessly he watched as the gate closed and the pair were swallowed up by the first layer of the King's Labyrinth. Hoggle had rushed out of his hut and raced to the gate but had not reached it in time. Sinking down to his haunches, the dwarf began to panic. He had known, had felt the anger of the king. Now he feared for the girl, his first friend. She was young in ways the King could never understand. Her challenging of the King had been an indication, a signpost of innocence that the King had either misread or ignored. Other mortals who'd wished away a sibling had made and accepted the King's challenge. All had failed, or given up in far less time than it took Sarah to reach the castle. Hoggle suspected she'd have reached it sooner had Jareth not insisted on him giving her that little present, that peach. Guilt consumed him, it was his fault she had taken a bite.

Hoggle had witnessed exchanges between the pair before. Once in the tunnel; it was an exchange that had left him wondering if the girl had any understanding of the situation at all. He had witnessed Jareth making a blatant attempt at seducing the girl. He had never witnessed his King make such advances on any of the other mortal females who had accepted the challenge. Hoggle, who had known and worked for the King, had witnessed the mighty Fae eye the little human girl as if she were _**Turkish-Delight**_. He had even become the subject of one of the King's threats… '_**And Hoggle, if she should ever kiss you, I'll make you a prince…. Prince of the Land of Stench!**_' it still resounded in his ears. Something told him that threat still held. He worried that perhaps the King had seen the peck that the girl had given to him when he was in her room in the _**Above realm**_. Jareth was a foul tempered, resentful, covetous, suspicious kind. His inners told him that the King saw much more in the girl than he'd seen in any other mortal. And if that were true, being rejected, refused and rebuffed was not going to sit well with Jareth, not at all.

--

Sarah looked at Jareth with contempt, "Well, what now?"

Jareth smirked as he waved the gate shut behind them, "Eager to get started, are we?" Like a caged cat he circled her. "Feeling powerful? Confident? Victorious, perhaps?"

The girl crossed her arms and glared. "Just get on with this pitiful cry for attention," she commanded icily. "I don't have time to waste on you…"

"On the contrary," he scoffed in return having returned to the place he'd been standing before the intimidating circling. "You have all the time in the world." He leaned on the wall, unmindful of the muck and mold it was covered in. His eyes raked over her, he had hoped it would put a touch of fear into the girl; however it only seemed to add to her perturbance toward him all the more. "Allow me to set the ground rules for you…" he drolly drawled.

"You know the ground rules? I wasn't aware you were familiar with the term…" she challenged in a demeaning tone. "A little late to begin telling me the rules, isn't it?"

Jareth felt his lip curl and he immobilized it, "Rule one," he ignored her insolent interruption and continued. "You must stay within the confines of the Labyrinth. Rule two, no outside help… that means from anyone. No worms, no goblins, especially no _**Hoggle**_." He smiled with satisfaction at her expression of disappointment. "Rule three, once you begin, you must continue the course until the end…"

"Now you tell me," she gave him a determined look, "Where's the end?" she asked impatiently.

"I'm getting to it," he drawled. "Let me finish the rules…" he sighed. "Rule Four, when you lose, and you will lose," he held up his hand to prevent her from protesting. "You will surrender yourself to me, and accept your consequences without shilly-shallying, dilly-dallying or any other kind of unwillingness."

"And if I win," she challenged impertinently.

"You won't," Jareth insisted lazily.

She repeated darkly, sparks of fire in the heart of her lovely green eyes. "_**And if I win**_?"

Jareth moved off the wall he'd been leaning upon, catlike he sprang to where the girl stood defiantly glaring at him. "_**You won't win this time, Sarah Williams**_." He stated in a no nonsense tone. "You're not match for me, not this time." Anger and hurt pride colored his judgment. Storms in the mismatched eyes of Goblin King met and matched the fires in the eyes of the mortal female standing defiantly before him.

Nevertheless the girl was as pigheaded as he, "I beat you last time, Goblin King," she reminded him coldly. "What's to prevent me from doing it again?"

"Me," he stepped closer, instinctually she backed up. He moved forward again, inching her to the wall opposite the one he'd been resting against. His jaw clenched, and locked, his eyes became feral and treacherous. His every fiber seemed to be reacting to her contention and conviction. In the back of his throat a rumble sounded, as he continued to force her to back down. "It's going to be a pleasure to take you down a notch or two." He glowered as he had her pinned to the moldy wall. "Are you willing to abide by the rules?"

Glaring defiantly up into his eyes, even as she was being pinned, she huffed. "Do I have a choice?"

"No," he spat.

Her lips pursed, "Before we get started, do I have your word that you won't cheat?"

He laughed coldly. "I won't have to."

"Your word, Goblin King," she demanded ignoring the muck behind her. His clenched jaw told her she'd receive no such concession. Disgusted she sighed. "What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go this time?"

"Same place," he raised an arm and pointed instinctually at the castle. "_**We**_ end at the castle."

"Same route," she inquired refusing to look where he was pointing.

"_**No**_," told her in a sinister way, his eyes flaming with hidden gratification when she frowned and pouted slightly. "This time you're going to have to go without the help of the subjects you~ sweet-talked into giving you assistance and support," his left arm arched over her, his hand rested above her head. He allowed his fingers to graze over the top of her head, picking at stray hairs that seemed to rise up. "_**I**_ shall be your traveling companion this time around."

"I don't think so," she said gritting her teeth. "What's the point of this… challenge if you're with me?"

"Think of it as more of a guided tour for now," he suggested in a low dangerous growl that told her there were things he wanted her to see that she was not going to enjoy.

"Go to hell," she hissed.

Fingers that had been lazily toying with her hair, clenched into the strands and pulled hard. "I've warned you about your manners," he glowered. "Now I suggest you begin showing a little respect."

Tears stung her eyes as her head was yanked back. "Get your hands off me," she snapped, reaching up, and learning too late what a mistake that was.

With a viciously brutal twist of his wrist, Jareth had her pinned to the wall without hope of freeing herself. "Ask nicely," he scowled.

Fighting physically was hopeless, and Sarah knew it, "Release me," she tried not to sound whiny. "Please."

His fingers relaxed their grip, "See how easy that was, Sarah?" He mocked. "Now, as I was saying~ think of this as your personal guided tour." His eyes were radiant with power. "There's so much more of the Labyrinth that you missed on your first visit. So much I had wanted you to experience."

Swallowing the lump that was gathering, and the taste of gall, Sarah narrowed her pretty green eyes at him. "So bring it on, Goblin King." She challenged with bravado.

"This," he hissed threateningly letting his hand drop to her shoulder roughly, "Is my final warning, young woman." Stormy eyes darkened with anger. "You are no longer in your realm, you are in mine. Here I am King, and you will show me the respect that my office and station in life is due. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she hissed back.

"Yes, what…"

Sarah closed her eyes, took a long reserved breath and answered in mocking respect. "Yes, sir Your Majesty."

The weight of the hand lightened as he withdrew it, "That's better," he slid the hand down her arm. "I suggest we take this direction," he pointed to the passage way opposite the one she'd taken on her last journey.

Tersely, she addressed him, "As you wish, your Majesty." Her body stiffened as she waited for him to move. She was trying to peel herself off the mucky wall, without getting too close to the man. 'Guided tour my ass,' she huffed to herself. 'I'll most likely end up in that stinkin' bog if he has his way.'

He could see that bits and pieces of the moldy wall had attached itself to the girl's garments. Clasping his hands behind his back he turned from her and sharply ordered. "This way, wench."

'Wench?' she thought bitterly. 'Who's he calling a wench?' "Sire," she addressed him with the same tone of sharpness, and it brought him up short. He turned to glare at her and she advanced forward boldly. "As I must address you with the distinction of your station," her voice was frosty while polite. "I request you show me the same civility and respect." He gave a quiet snort and she added. "_**I am not a wench."**_

One elegant brow rose and was lost in his tangle of fine Fae hair. "Indeed," he made it sound accusatory, but cocking his head to one side added, he bowed courteously toward her, "I stand corrected, Miss Williams." He then turned back to the path he was escorting her down. Wordlessly she followed.

--

Hoggle was rocking back and forth, unable to move from the gate. He wanted desperately to enter, but feared what the irate king would do to him if he dared. Not even the pesky buzzing of the swarm of fairies could move him. A goblin that had been hiding in the hut peered out, seeing the dwarf rocking scurried back to his hiding place. If Hoggle were fretting, then it was a gloomy outlook for the rest of them as well.

The Queen of the Fairy Swarm landed on a ledge beside the upset gnomish little man. She waved off her clan, if it were a trap she didn't want them to be caught up in it. She watched the dwarf carefully and waited, sooner or later he was bound to swat at her. When he didn't consternation filled her tiny features. "What's wrong with you," she demanded in a tiny fairy voice that sounded of tinkling bells, a beautiful sound that could very easily become aggravating; "Why are you just sitting there? Can you not see we are multiplying?" They weren't of course but she wanted to get a reaction.

Hoggle turned his face to the sound coming at him, his big eyes were watery and he looked on the verge of tears. "Not now, little Queen, not now," he said quietly.

Taken aback, Queen Acacia stomped a foot at the dwarf. "You dare speak to me in so insolent a …" the first large tear to fall silenced the little Queen. "What has upset thee so?" She looked on the brink of tears herself. "Gardener, tell me what is wrong?" She begged him.

Sobbing now, Hoggle gasped out. "The Goblin King took Sarah back into the Labyrinth…" he pointed to the wall and crumbled into his hands.

This announcement felled the little Queen whose knees buckled and sent her falling to the sandy ground beside the dwarf. "He is seeking vengeance?" Sobbingly the dwarf nodded and the little Fairy Queen looked at the gate with overwhelming sadness, "Oh the poor child." Her sadness at the gardener's tidings was measured with guilt. She had bitten the girl, and now~ Queen Acacia wept with Hoggle.

--

Sarah followed the steps of the Goblin King, refusing to walk at his side. At first she fumed, and pouted and thought of how damned unfair this all was. She seethed and bristled, raging to herself that someone should teach the Fae a thing or two about losing gracefully. Watching the movements of the graceful man a head of her she wondered how it was that creatures that were so beautiful could be so… spoiled and unreasonable.

Jareth paused waiting for her to catch up to him, he looked over his shoulder and pointed to the wall he was standing before. Sarah, arms crossed and a pout on her pretty little bow mouth, glared at him. "It's a wall."

"Is it," he challenged frigidly.

Opening her mouth to say something snippety, she paused, instead of provoking him she extended her arm and her hand went into the opening. "My error," she acknowledged without sounding the least bit contrite. Sarah moved into the opening that would open to the next layer of passages in the Labyrinth.

"Only one of many," he whispered to himself as he moved into the opening that would shift and altogether disappear once they were both past the portal. Her face was still angry and resentful, and he hoped she'd remain so for some time to come. Humans made dangerous mistakes when they were angry or over confident. And Sarah Williams was both angry and over confident. "This way," he said moving past her.

"Where does this go?" she asked tapping a toe and refusing to move.

Jareth turned, his face mocking her, "Ultimately to my castle."

The girl huffed, "And immediately?" Keeping the respectful tone was becoming more difficult for Sarah.

Toying with her like a cat with a mouse, Jareth purred. "A little late to worry about that now, isn't it?" He moved with feline agility and magnificence as he moved toward her. "Having second thoughts," he challenged. "Or are you fearful of what you'll see around the next bend?"

Clenching her hands into balled up little fists at her side, Sarah seethed through clenched teeth. "The only think I'm worried about is being dropped into a pit."

"Ah," the King purred. "The oubliette," his voice sounded seductively appealing suddenly. "Believe me Miss Williams, my plans for you do not include an oubliette… for now."

"You are so full of yourself," Sarah retorted now moving past him and down the corridor before them. "I don't care what your plans for me are… I'm not going to lose…"

Jareth paused, watching the girl move, appreciating her attributes and her gait. "You already have, my dear, you already have." He murmured to himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4.**

The corridor of the moldy brick wall opened into an uncluttered sweeping space that was beyond the canyon of twisting and turning walls that had changed directions on Sarah before. She could see them from this vantage point, and could observe them shifting and moving as if they were living. The hands on high pillars also were moving about, changing the directions in which they pointed.

Jareth smiled, watching her observe the hopelessness of that layer. "A good many give up right there," he boasted. "Some never even get in the gate."

Sarah turned to the side ever so slightly, glaring at him over her shoulder. "I'm not like a _**good many**_," she asserted singing her own praises.

Stormy eyes in a porcelain face flashed fire and ice. His lips thinned as his face turned haughty, "No, you are not." With feral hunger his eyes now devoured her. Anger didn't curb the hunger, if anything it enflamed it. She was a tempting morsel, and he was tempted to let her off… if she would just bend to some extent to his will. Fighting the urge to reach out, touch that lovely face, or cup her chin, he stood just behind her. Close enough to feel the radiant heat pouring off her slender young body. Close enough to breath in the pheromones that were hammering at his senses. She turned her face away from him, missing the sharp intake of breath on his part, a small measure he was grateful for. Schooling his features and reining in the emotions that were foreign to him, he addressed her with a tone that was thought-provoking for both of them. "Like what you see?"

Sarah shuddered, a chill danced over her skin and she was all too aware of him. He was standing as close to her as he had on the windswept hillside only hours ago. Sarah was sure he was aware that he was invading her personal space. "Like is not the word I'd use," Sarah actively worked on keeping her composure, serenity was out of the question.

"You don't like my kingdom," he badgered a little, faintly amused.

"I didn't say that," Sarah snapped before she could stop herself. The moment the words had been uttered she found herself regretting them.

"Ah," he mused delighted in having tripped her up. "Then you do like my kingdom."

"Some of it," she said through gritted teeth.

"As yet you've seen so little of it," he teased, his lips were close to her ear, his long hair moved over her face in the gentle breeze that had come up.

His closeness was intoxicating, and Sarah could not afford to be compulsive. Instincts were telling her that in the eyes of this owl she was no more than a mouse. She was just something to be hunted, taunted, and devoured. "My pervious visit was not by choice," she reminded him curtly. "_**IT**_ was not exactly an excursion… it was a rescue mission, or had you forgotten?" She refused to turn, to cock her head to one side and look at him.

"Still," he said with purposeful hesitation, and a tiny bit of a growl in the back of his throat, "You must have noticed some of the more bucolic and enjoyable aspects of my kingdom." Her warmth and sweet natural scent were intoxicating, drawing him closer. "So I repeat," he breathed heavily. "Do you like my Kingdom," he paused and then breathed out her name. "Sarah."

His sultry breath on her skin, his enticing voice echoing in her ear, Sarah opened her mouth to speak but no utterance of sound would come forth. Not even the throaty groan that was lodged would escape. Deprived of the ability to speak, she forced herself to turn a baleful glare his direction.

Knowing she was incapable of speech he leaned closer. Once within inches of her, intimidatingly he said her name once more, this time in a tone that was a possessive caress. "Sarah." His eyes drank her in. Defiantly she swung her face away, her hair brushing over his face as she did so. It was an attempt to put him off, but it only fanned the fire that was burning. She was impossible, insolent, impertinent, and cheekily disrespectful; and at his moment more than anything else he wanted to take her into his arms and have his wicked way with her. With her back turned to him, he smiled, perhaps this was not the wisest way to go about saving face, but it was most definitely informative.

She began to tap one foot impatiently. How dare he drag her from her room into the Labyrinth and then demand to know if she liked his Kingdom? The cheeky bastard! Her voice returned and the girl demanded. "Can we get on with this?"

This time he didn't fight the urge, but extended a gloved hand until it slipped effortlessly under her tilted chin. "So defiant," he purred. His eye lashes swept down over his eyes, hiding the dark intentions. "One must admire your~ courage." His thumb put pressure on her chin, "Misguided though it be."

Slapping his hand away, the girl moved to back up only to have both his hands pull her forward. Looking over her shoulder she saw he was saving her from a very disastrous fall. She looked back at him, "Thank you," she whispered reluctant to give him thanks or praise.

Releasing her he directed her steps to the path he'd chosen. "One must watch one's step here, Sarah." He warned coldly as he walked ahead of her once more. "Unless one wants to fall."

Soul deep the girl shivered, he was impossible to read. One moment he was snarky, the next he was sultry, and then cold as ice the very next. "You've read me the rules," she addressed him crossly. "But you've not given me much more than that. What's the point of all this… So am I supposed to run the Labyrinth again or not?"

"I told you," he called over his shoulder icily, "Think of this as your personal guided tour."

"I have better things to do," she challenged with a frosty tone of her own.

"Do you," he retorted. "Well then surrender and we'll end the tour here and now…"

"Not on your life," she quipped. "I'm not a quitter."

'I'm counting on that,' he thought to himself smugly. The path he was leading her down altered, swinging upward again and away from the stone canyon. Now she was being led toward the lagoon at the far end of the stone canyon. It was perfectly disarming and utterly dangerous. She had somehow charmed his guards at the Ruse, and had managed to muddle them into giving her enough information to figure out the Ruse. It could have been a fluke, but this time he was not willing to give it the benefit of the doubt. She was as slippery as an eel and this time he was not going to forget it. "Remind you of anywhere?" he asked turning to face her.

Pressing on past him, she expected to find herself looking at another pair of doors with mixed up, secretive guards. Instead she found herself staring at a glen that not only resembled but mirrored her glen in the park at home. "How," she asked before her mind shook off the bewilderment enough for her to think clearly. "You did this," she accused in her next breath.

"No; you did," he said tapping her nose with a gloved finger.

'Never take anything for granted,' she'd been advised. Now, with the Goblin King tapping her nose as if she were a cat or dog, she found it harder and harder to remind herself of that sage advice. "How did I do this?" She countered and grabbed the finger tapping away.

"You made an impression on the Labyrinth," he coyly reminded her not struggling to free the hand she was grasping. "Are you so surprised it would interweave your personal memories into its fabric?"

"Impression," she gasped as she looked that the replica of her favorite place to play act out the scenes of her books and plays. "It's got to be a trick," she wheezed. Unthinkingly she moved forward, off the path and into the meadow. "That's some impression," she whispered astoundingly.

"Agreed," he said with a smile, for she had done just what he'd hoped, strayed off the path, leaving her fate unsettled. He had not mentioned to the girl that she needed to stay to the path. He had only told her she had to keep to the confines of the Labyrinth, and now she was falling into his web.

The path he had been leading her down was forgotten as she moved toward the knolls and the obelisk. "That's incredible," she whispered. "It looks like… home."

"Yes," Jareth agreed again only too happy to have her create her own web to untangle.

Reaching out her hand, her fingers tingled and hurt as she got near the stone monument. Sarah frowned, pulling back her hand she noticed the little bite she'd received when Hoggle had let her in the gate was now red and very painful. A day late, and a dollar short, Sarah understood she'd made a big mistake. "I'm not supposed to be here," she turned only to find a two story stone wall now blocking her escape. "Where did that come from?" she gasped.

"I forgot to mention, the Labyrinth is more than happy to let you in…" he sighed only too pleased that the over confidant girl had trapped herself without his help. "It does not like to let go of… objects of interest."

"I am not an object," she protested pointing to herself empathically. "I am a person!"

Amused Jareth gave Sarah a soft smile, "Yes, I've noticed."

Knowing that some of the walls had openings in them, Sarah moved toward the wall with both hands extended, "It has to be here somewhere," she muttered.

"What does," Jareth asked as he tugged on the cuffs of his gloves, making sure they were on tightly.

"The opening!" she bellowed angrily.

"Oh," he said turning away from the sight of her moving down the length of the obstruction. "It's gone," he called moving into the meadow.

Sarah sagged against the immovable obstacle. "Gone," she whispered in a hoarse voice. "Gone where?"

Jareth shrugged, before leaning on the obelisk. "It does not matter where," he informed her. "Your movement off the path has given us a new direction."

"That's…that's…" she stammered, not sure she wanted to finish her sentience.

Closing his eyes, pursing his lips, the Goblin King finished the sentence for her. "Not fair."

Knees buckling, the girl fell to her knees. "You didn't say anything about sticking to the path… only staying within the Labyrinth," she bemoaned.

"My bad," he said with a self satisfied smile on his lips, his back now resting on the stone monument, and one foot was raised up upon it as well. "I suppose there _**are**_ a _**few**_ other things I forgot to mention." Green eyes filled with fire, and she looked like a cat ready to pounce. Had he been born mortal he might have been frightened by the sight of the enraged young woman. Having been born a High Fae, he was mildly amused. 'That's it, get really angry and forget yourself,' he encouraged and goaded mentally. 'Come and get me, kitty, kitty.'

The pain in Sarah's fingers was forgotten as she had rage in her brain and her eyes were seeing red. She rose up from the ground, and stormed over to where he was reclining on the wall. "You open that damn wall now, or… or…" she breathed heavily, and her face was flushed.

"Or what," he challenged. "You'll complain that it's not fair? Or perhaps you'll treat me to a tantrum, I seem to recall you being very adept at them…" he laughed at her fury.

"Open that wall," she repeated in a low growl.

Straightening up, coming off the obelisk, Jareth looked down at her with a smug smile. "I wouldn't even if I could, which I can't… you chose the path, and now we have to follow it."

"I didn't," she complained bitterly. "You tricked me."

"Be that as it may," he sighed placing his hands at his hips, his cape whipping violently with the wind that had risen with Sarah's temper. "The Labyrinth has decreed that we follow the path as you've chosen it."

"No!" Sarah shouted cheatingly. "I won't do it, you can't make me!"

His haughty charm was wasted on Sarah at the moment, but he could not help himself. "Oh I don't have to," his calm was driving her mad. "It's out of my hands, my… dear." Softly he laughed, "Sarah I told you not to challenge me,"

"You said don't defy you!" she corrected before she could prevent the utterance.

"Semantics," he teased. "Either way," he shrugged maddeningly. "It's out of my hands."

"Are you king here or not?" She demanded with a stomp of her foot.

"That's more impressive if there's a floor or stone tile beneath the foot," Jareth advised with an amused glint in his stormy eyes. "As a matter of fact I am King, but the Labyrinth has a mind of her own."

Startled, the girl whispered, "Did you say her own?" He nodded and Sarah whispered with a gulp. "You mean it's a she?"

"Most defiantly," confessed the King with the sound of someone giving a bit of information that should have been observed on the prior visit. "And she's very, very, very territorial… and you are not part of her… territory." He watched with glee as the girl winced.

"No, that's not true… you're trying to trick me," Sarah bellowed after the wince, hoping to sound brave so if the Labyrinth heard her it would know she meant business.

"Foolish little girl," Jareth crowed. "I don't have to trick you! You are your own worst enemy." He moved toward her. "I'm just an observer."

"Don't talk like I'm a train wreck!" she demanded hotly as she wagged a finger at him. "You set me up!"

Pretending shock and embarrassment, Jareth raised gloved hands to his face. "Oh my goodness," he teased. "How wicked of me…."

"Stupid Goblin… King," she muttered turning her back on him and assessing the circumstances and state of affairs.

Jareth placed his hands on her forearms, "Surrender now; make it easy on yourself, precious."

"Go to hell," she glowered.

Possessively he enfolded her in his arms, pulling her back against the armored breastplate. "We're already there, precious thing… We are already there." He crooned in her ear. "Sarah," his voice dropped several octaves and she quivered under his touch. Impulsively he repeated the offer given in the Escher room. "I ask for so little," he implored with tenderness he could not feign. _**"Just believe in me, and you can have everything you want ... everything you have ever dreamed of ... your dreams, Sarah ..." **_

Shivering at the repeated words she closed her eyes to stave off the temptation.

His lips were beside her ear, "_**Just fear me and love me," he droned soft and low in her ear in a gentle voice, "and do as I say, and I ... I will be your slave."**_ His head moved against hers, nuzzling the girl as if they'd been together for years. He knew her, her breath, her voice; her heart beat… her delightfully innocent scent. "Sarah," he crooned. "Sarah…"

Sarah whispered weakly, "You have no power over me," she didn't sound like she was convinced.

Jareth chuckled softly, "Want to bet," he challenged.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5. **

Red hot coals began to burn under Sarah's skin, "What did you just say," her body had gone stiff and cold as her fury rose. Sarah hated with a passion being challenged. Her green eyes were full of fire and fury. "Say that again," she growled.

Sensing the moment was lost, Jareth awaited the explosion he was feeling coming from her. Not able to resist provoking the situation, he purred in her ear enticingly; "You heard me."

"Augh," she exclaimed loudly with disgust, making a sour face as she extricated herself from his embrace. "Get this once and for all, Goblin boy; I am not interested in you! There is nothing you have or can offer me that would…"

"Liar," he teased as she took large quick steps from him, "Pretty, but such a liar." His smile was haughtily reminiscent of the one he'd given her upon their first face to face meeting. "It's going to be such a pleasure to make you eat crow."

"Go to hell, Goblin King," she moved into the meadow and toward the foot bridge. "I'm outta here."

"Are you certain about that, precious?" he crooned not having moved a footfall.

Hesitating a moment, Sarah turned back to look at the man still standing at the obelisk. She was exhausted both physically and mentally, having run an eleven hour marathon to rescue Toby. Now, having been dragged back into the Labyrinth she was feeling out of sorts, ill-tempered and more than a wee bit annoyed with the Goblin King. "Why can't you just let it go," she demanded cantankerously. "I won; big deal! Deal with it!"

"I am," he said with a wave of a gloved hand. "Or had you not noticed?"

"_**You are a sore loser**_," she accused from what she considered a safe distance from the influence of his heat, and his warm spicy scent. She remembered what it was the old wise man said and repeated it with a touch of saucy indifference. "Sometimes the best way of winning is to lose gracefully," She flipped her hair over her shoulder to emphasize her words, and her authority.

Chuckling melodiously the Goblin King moved away from the obelisk. Just as he had moved here and there in the puzzling Escher room, in a bat of an eye lash he was suddenly no longer there but at her side. He leaned toward her tantalizingly, beguiling her senses with something entirely foreign to the girl, sexual magnetism. "I didn't believe the old man when he gave me that advice years ago," he taunted alluringly. "What makes you think I'll accept it from you?"

"He said it to you too," she asked blinking. "I'll bet he tells everyone the same stale old advice, hoping he scores sometime or other." She groused. Delayed by her realization that her quip had not hit its mark, she became aware of his nearness. "Back off!" she warned.

"It's my Kingdom," he taunted.

"Some King you are," she scoffed disregarding the dangers of taunting this creature of the Fae Realms. "You can't even open a wall…"

Scratching his nose gently, trying not to laugh in her face, Jareth said under his breath for her to hear, "I don't need to."

Green eyes narrowed with anger. "What does that mean?"

"I'm free to go wherever I please," he shrugged. "You're the one who has to stick to the path."

"You're impossible!" she stomped her foot once more.

"And you are very rude," he accused the girl coldly. "Didn't your parents teach you any manners?" He strutted past her, "I've half a mind to leave you here."

Sarah gasped, the sound stuck in her throat like a burning coal. "You wouldn't!"

He toyed with her for a moment before relenting, "No Sarah, I wouldn't."

"Why do you have to be so mean to me," she pleaded, her fatigue getting to her. "It's not fair."

Ignoring her imploring eyes, he motioned the foot bridge and the pond under it, "This was the first place I laid eyes upon you, Sarah… Did you know that?" Without touching her he moved to the edge of the pond, "Such a lovely thing, and acting out the stories you were reading, and dressed in such a romantic if historically inaccurate fashion."

"You'd know all about that, I suppose," she glowered, perturbed she pouted. Yet within her, somewhere deep inside a little thrill ran through her, he'd called her a lovely thing. Had he noticed her, was that real? Or just another Goblin trick, she was not sure.

"Indeed I would," he said with precarious calm. His stormy eyes turned upon the girl and he assessed her. "Such a pity you feel it necessary to hide from the world those lovely curves."

Feeling exposed and naked to his eyes, she felt color rise in her cheeks. "I don't have lovely curves," she denied, however she felt the need to cross her arms insolently. His expression changed, mirroring the same confident and regal manner in which he had stood looking at her in the crystal ballroom only a few short hours ago… or was it days ago, whichever, Sarah found herself trembling under his gaze. "Well," she stammered. "I don't!"

"You forget my sweet," his voice was commanding, "I've seen you dressed properly."

Blushing, exposing her feelings of embarrassment, Sarah bit her lower lip before she looked elsewhere to deny his accusation. "That spun sugar dress is your idea of proper?"

"It's a start," he crooned, wearing a rather guilty smile on his handsome face. "Or rather what was under it is a start…" Before Sarah could protest he continued. "You were extraordinary in that gown, and no one in the ballroom could take their eyes off you. Least of all, me… You moved like~ a Queen."

Blushing madly now, the girl turned her back on him. "This is foolishness."

"That gown didn't hide your…assets," Jareth reminded her, only too happy to make the girl cringe at the memory of their dance. "I held you in my arms, Sarah. I know womanly curves when I have my arms full of them." He stepped closer to the girl once more; the air about her told him all he needed to know. "Pity you feel the need to hide such beauty under baggy shirts and to wear breeches like a man."

Hurt by his words she turned, "I'm not hiding," she protested. "Maybe I'm just modest…"

Jareth contested her denial quietly. "Did you feel modest in your pretty gray costume dress?" She looked like she wanted to shrink away from him. "You were completely covered, and yet," his eyes narrowed with feral fires in their stormy centers. "It did not hide the woman that you are."

"I'm not a woman," she objected, disputing his assertion. "I'm only a girl…"

Jareth wondered amusingly if he were to reach out would she jump or try to run. He was about to test his speculations when he sighed heavily, "What is it Hoggle?"

Sarah looked about, expecting to see her friend, but she only heard his voice. It seemed to fill the air, everywhere. "Sire, we have a problem at the gate," Hoggle's voice sounded strained and more than a little anxious.

"Handle it," Jareth suggested in an all too calm voice before waving his hand and the sound of the gnomish little gardener vanished. "Where was I?" he turned gain to Sarah, the girl was looking about, for the source of the voice that had interrupted them. "He's not here, Sarah. Your companion is at his post, at the entrance of the Labyrinth."

"He said there was a problem," she hedged. "Don't you think you should check it out?"

Jareth smiled, calmly. "I'm checking out my own problem," he teased.

"I'm not your problem," Sarah growled.

"Aren't you, my sweet?" He inched closer, herding her back to the stone monument.

Sarah backed up, just an inch and realized it was a mistake. "No, I'm not."

The Goblin King chuckled softly, cocked his head to one side and gave her a sly wink, "I beg to differ." He moved even closer, "So why do you insist upon dressing like a man if you don't wish to hide your… feminine attributes?"

Gasping loudly, the affronted girl protested his remark, "I don't dress like a man!"

"Take what you're wearing right now," Jareth gestured toward her garments with a long dramatic wave of his glove. "This is acceptable for a lad, a stable lad at best… Not for a woman."

"Why you insulting, egotistical…" Sarah's jaw had dropped; she also stopped backing away from him. "And I suppose what you're wearing is the height of fashion?" Her eyes moved over him, lingering a moment longer than she wanted on his very male physic. Embarrassed, she tried in vain to look elsewhere.

Seeing her discomfort, her self-consciousness Jareth preened like a strutting peacock, "You can look at me Sarah," he teased. "I know what I am… I'm a man…"

"No you're not," she protested, "Oh your male alright," she glanced down, unable to fail to notice how snuggly his breeches fit or the bulge they didn't hide, she swallowed the lump in her throat and continued weakly. "But you are not a man."

"Sarah, I assure you I am a man." He countered with complete calm.

"No," she insisted unaware of the dangers of such an insistence. "Saying you're a man is a lie… you're not human… you can't be a man…"

"Darling girl," he crooned in the back of his throat, "What would you know of men? Who are you to judge me on my _**manhood**_?" His eyes were alive with wickedness.

Sarah constricted from pressures within her own being stammered, "I'm a virgin! That's not what I meant! You know that's not what I meant, you're turning my words around on me!"

Amused at her befuddled state, and his part in putting her there, Jareth looked at her with mock scandalized astonishment, "And what are you thinking about, little girl?" He asked dripping with sarcasm.

Stammering, and out of her element, Sarah knew the color in her face was now beyond pink headed to deep red. "No," she insisted once more now she shook her head, trying to step back, and finding herself back into yet another obelisk. "A man would have understanding, and… compassion…"

Jareth, a predatory glint in his eyes, placed his hands on the obelisk, trapping her with in his arms. "All of my dealing with humans, both men and women, are overflowing with the amounts of compassion and understanding and caring that they exhibited… And still they all said the words, made the wishes and took the consequences… Some even would say for the better." He argued icily. "Isn't that compassionate of me?"

The girl's face registered frustration, her breathing was becoming more labored, and her mouth was not giving the answers she wanted it to.

"I know what I am, Sarah," he growled at her. "You should know it too…"

"Sire," the desperate voice of the gardener was ringing in the air.

"Not now, Hogs breath," rasped the aroused Goblin King, eyeing the trapped girl.

"I'm afraid I cannot comply with your wishes," Hoggle stammered. "We've a problem here at the gate," he repeated.

"I'm not interested," Jareth hissed.

"But Sire," the voice was now pleading. "This needs your immediate attention."

Impatient and annoyed at being interrupted, the King growled. "Unless there is a runner, and I know there isn't… I don't wish to be disturbed."

Behind Hoggle there was a commotion, the little Fairy Queen was expressing anger toward someone who had obliviously insulted her. "That's sort of part of…this problem, sir."

"Handle it," Jareth eyed the prey within his grasp. "I've my own…

"It's out of my~ league," Hoggle cleared his throat. "This is more your area of expertise,"

Jareth listened to the voices behind the one speaking to him.

"Sire, you have a … _**guest**_ at the gate!" Hoggle said with emphasis on the word guest.

"What kind of guest," Jareth ended his stalking of the girl, backed away and listened but could not make out what was being argued behind the dwarf.

"A very important one," Hoggle stressed.

"High," questioned the King, now speaking in a code the dwarf would understand.

"The Highest," was the garbled reply.

"Damn," cursed the Goblin before casting a look at the girl, "How inopportune," he grumbled darkly. Resigning himself to having to deal with the problem at the gate, Jareth spoke to the disembodied voice. "Entertain my guest and inform them I am on my way…." He then looked at Sarah who was still backed up upon the stone pillar. "Forgive the intrusion, my dear. There's a matter that I must attend to," he said in a formal tone to Sarah. "For your own safety," he instructed with forcefulness. "I suggest you stay here until my return." Giving her a courteous bow, he turned to leave.

"Wait," she peeled herself off the obelisk, "You are planning on returning, aren't you?" It was embarrassing to her that she'd even asked.

Jareth contemplated shrugging, or not answering at all, he relented upon looking at the worried features of the pretty face. "Oh have no fear, sweet Sarah… I'm far from done with this conversation…" He let his eyes focus in and remain on her pretty mouth, "However, there is a matter at the gate that must be attended to." He moved closer, possessively he took hold of her throat. "Stay here, until I return," he ordered in a rasp. "Understood?"

She nodded, too unsure of her voice to answer. A moment later, Jareth vanished, and Sarah leaned back on the stone monument that he'd held her prisoner against only moments before. "Not cool, Sarah," she admonished herself. "Not cool at all…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6. **

The little queen fumed as the "guest" scolded her, "I thought I could trust you to keep an eye on things here," he growled at her.

"I have," she argued back.

Hoggle fretted, it was bad enough that Jareth had tricked Sarah into re-entering the Labyrinth, but this, this was a catastrophe. "I'm sure his majesty is on his way," he stammered.

The guest glared at the misshapen gardener, his dislike for the person of Hoggle was obvious. "He'd best be," warned the royal person waiting at the gate. "He had best be!"

Ravens and crows gathered at the gateway, their presence was not an unusual occurrence so no one took notice. The gardener paid them no heed, nor did the little Fairy Queen. Even the guest had not seemed to notice just how large a congregation of dark birds was now observing them.

Jareth appeared and strolled toward the man who glared at him, "King Oberon, how lovely to see you again," the younger King greeted the elder with veiled contempt. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

"You know very well why I am here instead of on Avalon!" roared the High King of the Fae. "You've been mucking about with time again."

"Have I," Jareth asked without trying to act innocent. "How naughty of me," he mused, his beautiful stormy eyes dancing with amusement. It was not often that Jareth was able to upset the High King; he took pleasure in the feat whenever it happened.

Oberon looked with disgust at the Goblin King. "I've warned you," his voice took on a gravely reverberation. "Messing with the temporal time frames is off limits!" His square jaw was locked into the scowl he was aiming without success at the younger King. "So what is your excuse this time?" he demanded frigidly.

"I understood I was more than allowed some measure of discretion in the question of reordering time," Jareth protested.

Oberon scoffed boldly. "Do you even understand the meaning of the word, discretion?"

Seeking to hurt the other, Jareth replied, "One might ask you the same question."

"Enough," spat the elder Fae King. "You will return time to its proper framing, and…"

"No," Jareth sighed, not waiting for the next threat.

The High King blinked, "Are you refusing a direct order?"

"So it would appear," Jareth sighed.

Oberon shook his head, "I'm not here as a means of giving you entertainment, boy…" Oberon spoke slowly. "There is no reason to freeze time, none…."

"I beg to differ," Jareth replied taking a regal stance. "And I am allowed a measure of freedom of choice in how I deal with a… runner."

"Perhaps," Oberon glared darkly, fire in his eyes. "It is time to replace you…."

Jareth gazed with scorn on the King of the Fae.

"Perhaps you've been here too long to remember who and what you are," Oberon wagged a long finger toward him. "You will do as I say…."

"Since when do you have authority over the Underground," a voice asked that seemed to surround them all.

Oberon lowered the threatening hand, "Who said that," he demanded. "Who dares interferes in my entitlement over the Fae?"

One of the Ravens came off the wall, transforming as it landed. The man who stood before the two Fae was dressed in the same dark armor that the Goblin King was clad in. "The only one who has the authority here to do so," he answered as he strode forward on powerful legs. "You did not put Jareth on the Goblin Throne Oberon Tuatha de Danaan," he warned in a no nonsense tone. "I did," he came to stand beside the Goblin King, a dark mirror of the fair haired Jareth. "You can no more replace him than you can order him about. The Underground does not belong to you… it is mine."

"_Bran_ MacFebal," Oberon growled. "I thought you'd lost interest in how this Kingdom is run…. Otherwise why put such a… fool on the throne?"

Bran was not moved by Oberon's arguments, "What you see as a fool, I see as a force to be reckoned with… one well equipped with dealing with the unusual nature of the Goblin race."

"Bah!" spat the Fae High King, "Misshapen, misguided and foolish creatures who have no purpose other than to be a thorn in the sides of creatures of light!"

"That is one opinion," Bran mused, he looked at Jareth. "I find my choice most acceptable and appropriate."

Jareth bowed to the High King of the Underground, "Thank you, Sire." He looked over at Oberon who was seething. "Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I've a rather lovely creature to see to…"

"You're thirteen hours are over," Oberon declared.

"Are you timing me?" Jareth asked with annoyance. Before Oberon could answer, Jareth fumed. "What gives you the right?"

Oberon sneered, "The time is up, send the loser back to her… home, and send the baby to us…"

"No," Jareth refused.

"Each runner is allowed only thirteen hours, once they lose they are sent back," Oberon reminded Jareth. "And we are given the babies…"

"Not this time," Bran stated for the younger King.

"What do you mean not this time?" Oberon demanded once more this time much louder, not caring who or what heard him. "We've a treaty! No mortal child is to be raised in the goblin Kingdom, you yourself agreed to this," he moved threateningly toward Bran.

"Be that as it may," Bran was calm as he answered. "There will be no baby this time."

"And why is that?" Oberon growled.

Bran looked at Jareth with more understanding than he'd ever received from the Fae with whom he'd existed before coming to this Kingdom; "Because the Goblin King was beaten." There was no judgment in the voice that spoke, a touch of humor, but no judgment.

"Impossible," Oberon protested, "The Labyrinth cannot be beaten!" He spun on the younger man, "If that is true, and I have my doubts, then whom is awaiting you now, there's been no other summons this night… who is in the Labyrinth awaiting you?"

"The last runner," Bran said with amusement, he was not sure what amused him more…Jareth high jacking of the champion, or Oberon's fluster.

"You cannot do that!" Oberon was now practically gagging on his anger.

"He's within his rights," Bran assured the Fae King.

"No, no he is not," Oberon argued with force. "Once the race is run, the time is up, it is ended." Suddenly a cruel smile spread on the regal face. "He will have to be replaced."

"No," Bran countered, "I took into account that at some time there could conceivably be a runner who would reach the castle," the High King of the creatures of darkness and nightmares and worse chuckled. "I added a codicil to the rules and regulations."

The Fae High King faced off with the Underground High King. "Indeed, and what does it state?"

"That the reigning Goblin King has the right to save face," Bran answered without giving details. "So be so good to run along now, Oberon. There is no baby for you to collect… and Jareth has a," he paused then in a chuckle finished, "Guest."

Gathering his grand robes about him, Oberon glared at the pair. "You've not heard the last of this from me," he vanished with a great show of fire and smoke.

"He was always disposed to dramatics," the Goblin High King mused before he turned to his choice to sit upon the throne in the heart of the lands of the Labyrinth, "A warning boy, the Fae are crafty and cunning."

"I'm aware," Jareth lamented. "I was raised among them." He sighed.

"Your mother's wish," Bran said placing a hand under the face of his Goblin King. "Not mine."

"Sire," Jareth wondered if he could explain or if he should try to apologize.

"Don't keep your young lady waiting," Bran warned with a wink. "It's imprudent and rude."

"Thank you sire," the young man bowed and moved toward the gate of the Labyrinth.

Bran waited for a moment, and then turned his attentions to the little Fairy Queen who was watching him with a very guilty face. "So you spy for old Oberon, do you?"

"It's not what you think," she said in defense.

"It never is," Bran agreed before looking over at Hoggle. "And you," he clucked his tongue to his check. "One would think you would be grateful for the home we've given to you…"

"I am," Hoggle blurted out.

Bran reading both the fairy and the gardener shook his head at them. "And yet given half a chance you would both warn the girl whom Jareth is… entertaining of his… nature."

"She's a child," argued the gardener.

"Indeed," the High King of the Dark Realms mused. "And what is Jareth?"

"Old enough to know better," muttered Hoggle. Bran laughed taking bird form once more and with his companions flew into the space over the Labyrinth. Hoggle looked over at the little Fairy Queen he took pleasure in tormenting before Sarah had arrived. "Do you think we should have told him about you biting the girl?"

"Or you giving her the tainted fruit?" she countered. A shiver ran through her. "What makes you think he doesn't know… that one seems to know everything?"

"Wouldn't he have said something?" Hoggle shook his head, "He had the perfect chance to rub it in Oberon's nose."

Queen Acadia turned to look the direction taken by the flock of dark birds of prey that had followed Bran. "If he knows, and I'm betting he does… he's keeping it to himself until it's a weapon that cannot be defused."

"A weapon against whom?" Hoggle asked knowing that things with the Higher Creatures of Dark and Light were not always what they appeared to be.

"Let us hope it is not aimed at us," Queen Acadia prayed.

"Oh poor Sarah," lamented the gardener anew. "She has no idea the can of worms she's opened."

"She figured out the Labyrinth," the little fairy suggested strongly. "Perhaps she can unriddle this as well." When the gardener looked her way, they both shook their heads.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7.**

Having slid down the pillar, Sarah now sat at its base looking dejected and miserable. While she was not entirely sure she enjoyed the company of the haughty and bullying king, he was better than being alone here in the Labyrinth. Her hand was painful, and her fingers felt like they were burning. She had not noticed it so much before when she'd been here to rescue Toby. Only the initial stinging and the anger at having been bitten, this place was so unfair, she lamented. It could look so beautiful and then the next second she was either being bitten, or falling down a shaft of hands or being chased down a tunnel by the cleaners.

Pouting and feeling very sorry for her-self, Sarah kicked a stone that was near her foot. "Stupid place," she bemoaned. "Why am I here, I won…" She was tired, and who wouldn't be given what she'd been through.

Jareth tarried, observing her from a safe distance. He could see she was frustrated, and tired. He gauged it would not take much to send her over the edge. Not when she was so quick to jump over cliffs on her own. Still it was pleasant to stand here and watch her misery. A little thing compared to what she's measured out to him.

"Why am I here," she moaned aloud.

Jareth moved toward her now, as if he had not heard her outburst. After all, he wanted to make her torment last. It would be no fun at all if she were to capitulate too soon. "I do apologies Miss Williams," he said as he came closer. "Unavoidable," he shrugged, "The duties of a King."

Slightly red eyed, she glared at him. "If I'm taking up your valuable time you could just send me home."

"Why Sarah," he acted wounded, "Just when we were getting to know each other."

The girl stood up, brushed off her jeans and pulled herself together. "I suggest we move this along."

A wisp of a wicked smile played on the man's lips. "But we've yet to resolve the issue of my being…"

Seeing he was intending on pressing the issue, Sarah remembered the words of the Wise man. "I'll concede the point for now."

Jareth chuckled, "I see Hoggle is not the only little coward…"

He was pushing her, and Sarah was too tired, too stressed and too disgusted to care. "Care to bet on that," she turned his words against him now.

"OH little girl," he warned throatily. "You are playing with fire."

"Am I?" she countered coldly. "That's not a threat is it?"

His legs moved without sound as he nearly gilded along toward her. "Think of it more as a promise," he suggested.

"I'm not afraid of you," she boasted.

"No," he teased.

"You're nothing but… a bad dream!" She glared refusing to back down. "Just a bad dream…"

He chuckled darkly. "I've gone from not being a man, to being a bad dream… really little girl… that's some imagination you have there. To create something as complex as I am."

"You are not complex," she taunted. "You are nothing but and over active imagination and a silly romantic…"

"Romantic," he interrupted slyly.

"Oh forget it," she waved a hand toward him.

"Not so fast," he ordered with a move that put him directly in front of her with the obelisk once more to her back. "You find me… romantic?"

"No," she denied but the blush rising on her cheeks belied her words. "I was saying a silly romantic notion…."

Dressed in the Imperial Goblin armor, and with the wind fluttering the edge of his cape in the night air, Jareth knew he was impressive. He was frightening to a good many, but romantic? He placed one gloved hand on the stone monument behind her; it was close to her shoulder. "This fascinates me," he stated with mock innocents. "You have silly romantic notions about me?"

"You're twisting my words again," she said aware of the arm so close to her.

"Am I," he asked wide eyed, "First I'm accused of not being a man, than being a bad dream and a silly romantic notion," he shook his head. "I'm confused," he shrugged.

"You're trying to make me say things," she accused.

Jareth smirked, "Am I?"

"Blast it all," she felt trapped and could see no way out of this. "It's not fair."

"You must find some other way to express your feelings," he warned. "That phrase is getting worn out."

"You're a bully," she hissed.

"Oh my, I have my doubts as to you knowing just what I am," he teased. "As I said before, I'm a patient man…"

"You are not a man," she countered without thought to the reaction, "Patient or otherwise."

"No," he asked with a smug look on his face. His free hand reached down and gripped her hand, pulling it from her side. At the same time his other hand moved, a rough grasping of the upper arms that yanked her forward until her body and his met and forcing her to feel the physique, "Care to comment now on my manhood?" Sarah's sharp intake of breath was evidence to him that she was now fully aware, like it or not that he was completely male. "Or do you need more convincing?" He easily lifted the girl off her feet, holding her eye level and then watched the terror in her youthful eyes and on her face as he allowed her body to slide down his. "Convinced?" He asked.

"Yes," she squeaked weakly, lips trembling.

Jareth held her, her body was a lingering delightful self infected torture, but he had given her a shock and it had been worth it. "I am a man, Sarah… all man." His eyes were locked with hers. "Say it," he commanded.

Lips trembling, eyes filled with surprised astonishment, having difficulty breathing let alone speaking, Sarah cleared her throat. "You're a man." She agreed.

"If you are not convinced," his words held an unspoken threat.

"I'm convinced!" she pushed him back away. "I'm convinced already." Sarah wanted to escape, to be a million miles away, to be on the moon. Anywhere but here, in this replica of her glen, with this man! She didn't want to be aware of him. Of his maleness, of that spicy scent that poured off him, of the heat he radiated. However she was cornered, and there was no escape. She couldn't even move her back against the obelisk and him in the way.

"Now," he growled pursuing the line of questioning that would put her in the most danger. "You were saying about me being… romantic." He pursed his lips, looking at her with the same look he'd had on his face when he removed the horned mask in the ballroom. "As yet, you've not even spoken my name…. Sarah."

"This is getting us nowhere," she whispered.

"Say my name," he teased.

"No," she refused, "Now stop this!"

"Say my name, Sarah," he leaned closer, "Just once."

Panicked, and furious at being trapped, the girl growled, "When hell freezes over, Goblin King!"

Jareth laughed, as he backed away from her. "You are delightful," he teased. "Come, we have a long way to go…"

"I want to go home," she moaned. "I'm tired and I want to go to bed…"

"As do I," he said darkly under his breath, his back turned to her. "Come Sarah," he called over his shoulder, "Do try to keep up." He laughed coldly. "I'd hate to lose you now."

"You don't have me," she grumbled under her breath as she stumbled on the path over the foot bridge.

Jareth waited for her on the other side, and pointed to the path. "Rule one," he repeated. "You must stay within the confines of the Labyrinth, no matter where it leads."

"Don't go changing the rules now," she barked.

"Defining is not changing," he assured her smugly.

She stumbled once more, this time falling against the man, "I'm too tired," she whimpered.

Jareth's hands had reached for her as she stumbled, even before he was aware of it. He looked down at her, she was weakening, and it was all starting to fall together. Yet he felt a strange bit of pity for her, and her state. "Surrender," he whispered. "End this now…and give yourself over to my will…"

Her face pinched up, and she shook her head, her hair falling over her face. "I can't, don't you see that I can't?" She sounded like she was about to sob.

"Pity," he taunted, sounding strangely unaffected.

The sob congealed and solidified in her throat, green eyes burned, and the pretty jaw locked down hard. "You bastard," she growled sounding like a hunted animal. "I wouldn't surrender to you, not ever!"

Snapping fingers of a gloved hand at her he turned, "This way Miss Williams," he instructed, "We've more to see…"

"More of what," she glowered, "More of the Labyrinth's idea of my perfect world?"

'Hardly,' he thought to himself frostily. "This way," he called to her, as she lagged behind.

"Sometimes I really hate you," she muttered too tired to keep up. She moved on legs that felt like lead.

--

They had left the clearing of the glen and were out of earshot and out of sight when the flock of black birds gathered. Each transformed into creatures whose beauty was a cruel as it was elegant. Bran, amused by all he'd witnessed turned to his courtiers, "What say you now?" he demanded forcefully. "Still believe he's too much his mother's son?"

Llyr-Bel shrugged coming to the side of his most powerful Lord. "He is not acting like a Seelie that much I will acknowledge."

Each of the court members of Bran's personal court were dressed in black flowing robes and Goblin Armor. Each one with dark thick wavy hair, and eyes that seemed to be as blue as the Celtic sea; their skin was like perfect bone china. They looked more like figurines, perfect in every detail, than living breathing beings.

Aericura suggested temperance, "This is promising to be sure… however the boy did spend his youth under the influence of Oberon's pretty and petty court at Avalon." He cautioned. "Let us see if he intends to see this to its end…" His beautiful face turned to the leader of their flock. "He may not have the stomach to." The others in the group murmured, some agreeing, some not.

Bran nodded, "Aye, he may fail himself, and also us." A wicked twinkle began to sparkle in his stormy eyes. "However you must admit, he found the right buttons to push."

Llyr-Bel sighed, "Pity, she seems a pretty thing."

Dougal nodded in agreement, "A tempting little mortal to be sure." He was studying the lay of the land, and the changes the Labyrinth had created in anticipation of Sarah's arrival. "I suggest we keep a close eye on our… birds… I sense that Oberon is not happy with allowing this game to proceed. He'll try to find a way to pull the prey from your owl."

Crom the oddest of the companions, who had been standing a short distance spoke, "He did threaten to remove the King you seated, Bran… it is not the first of such threats." His face was like a stone statue, beautiful but impossible to read. "He has designs on what is ours," he warned. "Oberon is not content ruling over the light; he will seek to undermine what is under the rule of the Lords of the Dark… I would not put it past him to even seek aid from the UnSeelie courts."

Bran's smile turned dark, dangerous and too calm. "Let him," he said with confidence. "I know he covets what is mine, and resents my placing Jareth on this throne." He turned his face, looking at the swans in the pond; they had changed from white to black as night. "Let Oberon try to stop the Goblin King."

Crom cocked his head to one side, "You are aware of something we are not?"

"Perhaps," the Goblin High King, lord of Darkness, keeper of the Underworld purred. His companions smiled in response. When Bran changed forms, becoming the raven, so did they all. The glen was empty except for the two black swans, and the stone monoliths that now darkened.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8. **

The placid peace and serenity that was Avalon was disturbed by the appearance of her King. Oberon roared as he entered the great hall, all who were present gasped in astonishment. Scandalized many sought to flee. The High King was never in so an angry state. Of all he was the most calculated, and calm.

Tatiana sent her maids away, she approached her husband gracefully. "My Lord seems… perturbed." She observed, "Trouble with that creature the Goblin King?"

Roared out, and empty, Oberon sat down upon his throne. "_Bran_ MacFebal," he grumbled. "He has decided to champion that… fool… he place on the Goblin Throne."

"Does the fool need a champion?" she questioned without much care. "Why?"

"Someone has beaten the Labyrinth…" Oberon huffed and pouted. He had been planning on what to do with the new child in the Goblin Castle; he had seen the child and found it pleasing. He thought it would make a fine pet for his beloved wife, once it was a proper changeling. "Used every precaution, had my most trusted spies…" his voice rasped. "How could I have been so foolish?"

Sinister amusement danced in the eyes of the Queen of the Fae. "Bested, was he?" She laughed a sensual sounding throaty sound. "I'm sure that didn't set well with the spoiled child." She looked at her husband who was pouting like a spoiled child himself. "So Bran came to console the boy; what of it?"

"Console," mocked the High King, "He came to interfere!"

Tatiana sat on the stair at her husband's feet, making herself appear very interested in his troubles. "Bran interfered in what?"

"I was this close to pulling that fool off the throne," he measured an inch between thumb and forefinger. "I had him! I had him…"

"Bran objected?" she suggested in a sugary tone.

"He has shown little to no interest in the running of that Kingdom… until now;" Grumbled Oberon.

The High Queen placed her hands into her lap. "The Dark kingdoms do fall under his dominion," she whispered softly.

"Then why place a Fae upon the throne," Argued the provoked King. He looked down at her, "He did it to anger me!"

"He did it because Jareth is not just of our… ilk," she corrected as her eyes moved up to her husband's face. "Jareth belongs to him as much as he belongs to us." She stood up with contempt. "Why not leave him to Bran?"

"I wouldn't give him the satisfaction!" roared the High King.

Shrugging, the woman turned to leave. "It's of no interest to us…"

"Jareth is holding the champion of his latest game captive," Oberon hissed, halting the woman in her tracks. "A mortal girl…"

"A girl," the Queen gasped. "What is he thinking?"

"Bran claims the Goblin King has a right to save face," Was the irritated response.

Long fingertips went up to delicate lips, the Queen turned to her husband. "Does… she know?" She moved closer, and whispered. "Has anyone told his mother?"

Heavy lids hooded the eyes of the High King, "No, and for now, no one had best mention this to her… I prefer that she be kept ignorant of this matter."

Being familiar with the tone used, the woman painted on a placid expression as she exited her husband's great hall. Once she was outside, she shielded herself, her thoughts and her words with the same placid feeling that had been in her expression. "Not tell her," she gasped in disbelief. "Arrogance, thy name is Oberon!"

--

Alone in the highest room of the highest tower of the palace on the Isle of Avalon sat a woman. She had skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and eye black as ebony, her long reddish gold hair hung in long ringlets, and she looked like a young girl as she sewed the stitches of the embroidery she worked on with great care. Olwyn had not stepped out of her tower since the day her brother Oberon had imprisoned her there. She feared most everyone on the enchanted isle of Avalon had forgotten her.

She was not allowed to join the other members of the court, not even for meals. Her foot had not touched the green grass in years. Her skin seemed more pale and translucent as she'd not been allowed to be out of the tower room. Her only window was too high to be reached by standing. Only winged creatures could venture into the opening, and Oberon taking no chances on her escaping him had put an enchantment upon his sister. It prevented her from transforming to another form. She was trapped within her own body.

She was not allowed to receive visitors, with the exception of the High King who taunted her, or his wife who pitied her one time companion. She was allowed to read, to sew and to do needle work, such as making lace, or crocheting. The beautiful gowns of her youth were long gone; her brother forced her to wear garments made of fowler's netting. This was not the worst of her punishments. All this she could bear, it was not being able to see her son that tortured the once lovely maiden. Oberon had taken her only son from her arms moments after he'd been born, refusing her pleas for mercy. He had glared at her and told her she'd sinned against him and shamed the family. She had been betrothed to the companion of the new High King and had refused him. She had run off, hidden and had conceived this child of her shame.

Olwyn didn't see him as shame, she saw him only as a beautiful creature created by love. She refused to bow to her brother's will, and banish the child. She bestowed a kiss upon the boy's brow only seconds before he had been snatched from her embrace. Her kiss upon the child, had tied her brother's hands. He had to accept the child, and allow him to be raised as a royal prince of the Tuatha Dé Danann. When asked who fathered her child, she refused to give his name. She only admitted to him having been a Lord of the Dark Realms, to her brother's horror.

"You will never see this child again!" Roared the outraged Oberon.

He had meant to keep that vow, and would have had the hidden talents of the imprisoned mother not thwarted the King. Olwyn had a unique gift among the Fae, one that was not often seen nor practiced. Olwyn could draw crystals from the air. With her hidden talent the princess watched over her son. With the aid of birds that came into her chamber she was able to guide her son's steps. Now the only way to see her son was to view him in her crystals, for he had been sent far from the isle of Avalon. He was now a King in his own right, and his mother was silently proud of him.

Olwyn worked on the tapestry, needlepoint wall-hangings depicting different events in her child's life now decorated her tower chamber. Her latest was one depicting the grown man he'd become. She secretly marveled how like his father he was without being his mirror image. He was strong like his father, and yet she sensed some of her mercy and generous nature in her boy. He was a blessed child, and she adored him from afar.

"Madam," the voice of the High Queen interrupted the princess's thoughts. "Might I enter?"

"You are always welcome, sister," Olwyn greeted her warmly. "Do come in." Setting aside the embroidery frame, she turned her attention on her visitor. "Come sit with me; tell me all the news of the court."

Tatiana quietly closed the door, placing a charm on it before coming closer to the occupant of the tower. She pressed a long index finger to her lips, cautioning Olwyn before she moved into the center of the room and releasing a cloaking glamour to protect their conversation. "Olwyn, there is trouble," she said before taking a seat opposite the Lady of the Tower.

Seeing the serious face being exhibited by the High Queen, Olwyn raised a brow, "And you come to me?"

"It concerns …your~Son." The Fairy Queen's voice dropped to a whisper, not even trusting the glamour, or her spells of protection.

"Jareth," Olwyn questioned softly.

Nodding the Fairy Queen leaned closer to the princess, "Have you been observing him of late," she mouthed, not even letting sound pass her lips. When Olwyn shook her head no, the fretting Queen reached out a hand, "Perhaps you should… do so…now."

Olwyn opened her free hand, instantly a pure, perfect crystal orb appeared. Her fingers trembled as she raised it to look inside. The High Queen could not see, the images flashed swiftly and only for the eyes of the woman who had created the orb. "Oh dear," she breathed deeply. "Oberon is over his head," she looked at the wife of her brother and asked. "Is Avalon no longer enough for him?"

"He considers the Labyrinth Kingdom an extension," the Fairy Queen said through pursed lips.

"Only when it is convenient for him to do so," argued Olwyn. "If my son were not chosen, he would not even consider it open to discussion."

"Agreed," lamented the Fairy Queen. "However your son is seated on the Goblin Throne at the Labyrinth castle, and Oberon objects to his manner of doing things…"

"As if the powerful and mighty Oberon has a say," the other scornfully mocked. "Goblins do not belong to Oberon! He is a High King of Light… of the Above! He has no claim on the Underground or the Underworld…. Those belong to another." Flexing her fingers she sent the fragile glasslike orb back to its origin.

"Oberon wishes to depose your son, and hand the Labyrinth throne to one of his more… trusted Fae," the Queen suggested quietly. "He sees Jareth's position as his foot into a door that was shut to him."

"I was mistaken," lamented the occupant of the tower prison. "I should never have returned here… I should never have allowed Oberon to raise my son… it was a terrible mistake." She tapped her chin with her fingertips in a strange rhythm. "He was not even going to inform me of what is happening at this moment, was he?"

"No," the High Queen whispered delicately.

The Lady of the Tower turned and smiled at her sister in law, her co-conspirator. "I have always valued your~ decency toward me; never more than at this moment."

"Jareth has frozen time," Tatiana stated, "There will be no summons, no ongoing of daily life… nothing until he releases the fabric of time. Oberon fears what he cannot control, and he cannot control your son."

"My son is much like his own father," Olwyn mused. "He too found the Labyrinth a useful tool in wooing a young maiden…" she smiled at the memory. "However," her voice changed becoming powerful. "I will not allow Oberon to interfere in the power structure of the Underworld. It is not his realm! He has no understanding of the creatures of the Underground… he loathes goblins…including poor Puck."

"He accused Puck of being your lover," lamented Tatiana softly, thinking of the pain it had caused the Hob-Goblin who had served the High King from time to time. "If he can treat one of his own with such disdain… imagine what he'd do to the weak creatures who serve your son?"

"He does not know that you and I have visited in the past," Olwyn affirmed. "He need not know it now." She extended a hand to the Fairy Queen. "I shall keep a close eye on what is going on within the Labyrinth…"

"I shall keep you informed as to the actions of your brother," Tatiana agreed taking the offered hand. "Together we may prevent a catastrophe."

"Keep safe Fairy Queen," Olwyn kissed her friend's proffered cheek.

"Keep safe," Tatiana replied, "Lady." They embraced warmly before parting.

Olwyn watched as the glamour evaporated like mists, taking her seat once more she returned to her needlework. However her mind was not on the pretty stitches, but rather on a man clad in Goblin Armor, with hair dark as night, and eyes that saw into her soul. "Beloved," she whispered, not daring to speak his name. "Watch over our son." She prayed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9.**

Waiting on the crest of the hill that was above the glade, leaning on a tree, the Goblin King watched the girl struggle to keep up. She was tired, and weakening, and she was beginning to make bad judgment calls. All this was according to his plans, and it pleased him. Soon the weak mortal girl would be begging him for mercy, willing to give him anything he requested. How many tempting bits and pieces of her life he could dangle before her was anyone's guess.

"How much further?" she gasped as she finally reached the summit and collapsed in a heap.

"We're here," he said candidly enjoying her suffering. 'We'll see who exhausts whom, shan't we?' "Do get up," he commanded, "You cannot see from that position."

Sarah leaned on arms that refused to aid her. "Give me a moment to catch my breath," she requested in an out of breath timbre. "I'm mortal… remember?" Slowly she lifted her head to look up at him.

The pain in the green eyes was not supposed to move him, he told himself. So why was it seeing her brought low gave equal amounts of pleasure and frustration? "Take all the time you need," he responded. "I can wait."

A moment later, having caught her breath, and regained a measure of her faltering strength, Sarah stood on quaking limbs beside him. "What am I supposed to see here?"

Jareth shrugged, maddeningly, and crossed his arms, "I'm only the guide," he teased. "You tell me what you see."

Sarah heaved a heavy sigh before looking out past him at the path they'd traveled. "Everything is getting dark," she observed. "The swans…" she gasped before answering, "They've gone from white to black…" She looked at Jareth. "That's not possible."

"Isn't it?" He asked without expression or infection.

Sarah frowned, "You know it's not." Something else caught her eye before she turned to look away. A straight path; one that was dimly lit by the moon that was high above them stretched from the first layer wall. "Why didn't you take that path, it goes straight to the castle!"

"And miss all this wonderful alone time?" he scoffed.

"You bastard," she accused with flames in her eyes. "You're trying to wear me down!"

"Wear you down, wear you out, wear you…." He drew closer, precariously so, pursing his lips. "Yes, that I should very much like to try."

"You…. Pervert!" she pointed a long index finger at him. "That's obscene!"

"How so," he questioned without guilt, "I think you would look ever so enchanting draped over me." He once more looked mockingly at her garments. "Of course we'd have to dispense with these garments…they do not suit you." He motioned toward her poet's shirt only to have his hand slapped away.

"Hand to yourself if you please," she scolded.

Delighted at her reactions, and seeing he was getting to her, Jareth gave her a teasing smirk. "And if it does not please me, Sarah? What then?"

"I'll slap you," she countered, her head was held high, and her face became serious, but her eyes held doubt.

"I'll bet you would," he chuckled menacingly.

"I mean it!"

Jareth shrugged and looked away from her, "It does not change the facts, Sarah."

"What facts," she crossed her arms, trying to keep her knees locked and her body balanced.

"That you are a most intriguing and captivating young female," Jareth turned his head to allow himself the pleasure of raking her over with his hungry eyes. "Untried, untethered and," his voice dropped several octaves, and growled throatily. "Utterly charming when you want to be." Her face went crimson, and he repeated. "You would look so good on me."

Sarah's lips parted, her astonishment at his blatant statement registered in her eyes. "I'm a virgin," she whispered as if it were a shield of protection against the sexual advance being directed at her.

"All the better," he purred, "To not only be your first, but your only."

"Get your mind out of the gutter," she commanded weakly.

"Hardly in the gutter;" Jareth teased her with the knowledge he was frustrating her. "I would never condescend to rutting in the gutter… I prefer a bed."

Flames were dancing in her brain and she was no longer just bothered, she was vexed. "I'm not that kind of girl, Goblin King!" She looked at the path ahead, gathered her dignity and moved toward it.

"Perhaps you are and don't realize it," he teased as she passed, "Yet."

Ignoring his lusty suggestive words, Sarah moved to see where the path ahead was going. "I don't recognize any of this," she said aloud.

"Of course not," Jareth was at her ear once more. "It's the path of the future."

"Who's, yours or mine?" she demanded, twisting to avoid his touch.

"Ours," he delighted in giving her the news, it sounded so threading. "WE are intertwined you and I," he teased.

"Do you have to make that sound so….dirty?" she inquired rolling her eyes at him. He pretended to give it consideration and she turned away before he could catch her in a moment of weakness, "So where will this path take us?"

"Depends," Jareth dropped the boyish teasing; his voice was now all business.

"On what," the girl asked.

One gloved hand took hold of her elbow; easily he turned her to face him. "On how willing you are to accept responsibility for your actions," he warned.

Green eyes, filled with apprehension, looked at the gloved hand at her elbow; "Which actions?"

Fingertips tighten their hold. "You called me," his voice went deep, and emanated from within the depths of him. It was more than an accusation, it was an indictment.

Considering her options, the girl nodded, "Yes I did," she answered with remorse.

"You wanted the baby taken away," he continued.

"I was jealous," she admitted with more guilty repentance, and acceptance.

Jareth had not expected this, and his face showed it. His jaw tightened as he spoke again. "You are willing to face this?"

"Willing, yes," the girl answered carefully, picking and choosing her words, "Happy about it, not so much."

Fingertips tightened even more. "It does not require that emotion, only honesty."

Sarah winced, her elbow hurt under the pressure of the strong Fae fingers. "Yes, I accept what I did."

"I offered you an exchange," his voice became enticing, "Your dreams for the baby."

"Unacceptable then, even more so now," she wrenched her arm free of his grip. The flames that played in the heart of her emerald green eyes now became a raging inferno.

Jareth taunted, "Are you so certain?"

Reacting to what she perceived as a threat, Sarah advanced aggressively on the startled Goblin King. "I didn't spend eleven hours risking life and limb for nothing."

Her fire, her anger, and indignity stoked fires that he was keeping tamped down. "Magnificent," her praised before turning it on her as a weapon, "I would remind you that your journey before and this time are both your own doing." He spun from her and headed off on the path. "Come along, Miss Williams."

"Where," she asked as she found the strength to move.

Dramatically, and with a flourish he extended his arm. As if in answer to an off staged cue, lightning and thunder lit up the night sky. His hand was pointing toward a distant hill, where between the brilliant flashes of light and the roar of thunder she could make out the castle. Its turrets, massive walls and twisted spires and odd shaped domes clearly visible, awaiting her, "You know very well where," his chuckle was more sinister than before, he was enjoying this.

Sarah gritted her teeth, "Must we," she asked as the wind rose and whipped about them. Like snakes in a pit her stomach was churning.

Lowering the arm, he looked at her, his eyes filled with hunger that could not be met. "I ask for so little," he began.

"On word," she marched past him, not allowing him to finish his peal.

Watching her determined march, he whispered, "As you wish." From where he stood he could see more than just an outline. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, her form was completely visible to him. He watched for a moment, appreciating the form and fitness of the creature he craved. "There's still so much for you to see," he whispered; "So much to experience… before I crush you." Long legs and the stamina of the Fae carried him rapidly toward where she was trying not to stumble.

--

The flock landed, and Bran looked back toward the idyllic glen behind them. "Interesting game he plays," he observed.

"Do you see this as a game, my Lord," Crom asked also looking to the past.

"My Goblin King is not thinking of this as anything else," Bran declared. "He sees war and peace much the same way."

"This is no game," warned one of the other companions. "The outcome has serious ramifications."

"Jareth is a child who likes games," Bran mused delighted in what he was observing. "It is one reason he and the goblins as well as the Labyrinth gel so well… a thing some Fae creatures would do well to remember."

"Fae creatures," questioned Llyr-Bel skeptically.

"Oberon plots," Aericura agreed readily, "He's not fool enough to… put those plots into action."

"Is he not," Bran inquired with a raised brow. "Would he not be a fool not to do so?"

"He has no call," Crom argued. "The Labyrinth is part of the Underground… the Underworld is ours." His voice hardened like tempered metal. "Surely he does not think he has a right…"

"Matters not what he thinks," Bran informed them. "He sees only something he cannot control…"

"The Underground," Llyr-Bel agreed nodding his head sagely.

"Jareth," Bran corrected, "The child he could not deny as royal, the King he cannot sway."

Aericura snickered, "He resents this one Underworld King so?"

Bran shrugged, but wore a smile that was telltale. "He will not miss a chance to undermine the boy if he can." Surrounded by his companions he mused. "The games are afoot, and we for now must only observe. The boy, like a bird of prey, toys with the creature in his claws grasp. Oberon will try to press the demands of the Fae laws upon the lad…"

"You read your foe well," Llyr-Bel observed coldly.

"One should," agreed the Goblin High King. "It will be the true test of where the lad's authentic allegiance lies."

"And should he choose the light?" Crom inquired stubbornly.

Bran cocked his head to one side, "You doubt the boy?"

"I don't know him as well as you do," Crom explained as if it were of no matter either way.

"Jareth will choose what he desires most," Bran said in a tone that warned all to question no further. "Let us away," he instructed his court. "We don't want them to journey too far ahead of us." Once more the dark night sky hid the flight of the black birds of the High Goblin King's court.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10.**

Oberon called his most trusted advisor to his side, "Adjudicator Periwinkle," he addressed the younger Fae Prince. "I am in need of…"

"Advice," ventured the younger man, his gray eyes not hiding his interest.

"No," Oberon disagreed, "Not advice." He paced thinking out what it was he did want. "I want clarification on a point of law," he said as he paced. Periwinkle had always been a student of Fae law, and its applications, who better to turn to?

The tall, lean and graceful prince sobered. It was not often that his lordship the High King asked him for anything more than perhaps an interpretation of a point in the law… Never before had Oberon asked in an official capacity for clarification. Periwinkle had been an official of the Law for several centuries. In fact he was the longest reigning Adjudicator on the isle. He cleared his throat, schooled his face and asked. "What point of law needs clarification?"

The High King motioned to the table that was overflowing with scrolls, parchments, books and notes of all descriptions. "I've been over the law over and over," he stated grimly. "I have read every translation I could find," his hand dropped, "Without success."

Moving toward the table, the legally educated Fae lord picked up one parchment to read its contents. "This is _**The Escheat**_," he stared first at the parchment before turning his eyes to his King. "Sire, you've been reading _**The Escheat**_," he inquired. "Why, what is it you are looking for?"

"A loophole, Peri, a loophole." The King grumbled as he joined him at the long wide heavy laden table.

"To what," Periwinkle lowered the parchment back to the pile he'd plucked it from. He noted that all the parchments and scrolls on the top of the piles were ones that dealt with how the Fae were expected to deal with mortals. "I see a pattern here I find disconcerting."

"In what way," Oberon asked sourly.

"Sire, are you having a problem with the mortal realm," the handsome judge asked, his hand resting on the parchments.

Slumping his shoulders, the High King considered how to answer. "Not directly," he stated, hoping it was the right way to go about getting what he wanted from the Adjudicator.

"If not the whole realm," Periwinkle, not about to let this go, pondered aloud, "Then perhaps it is just one mortal that concerns you." Seeing the grim expression on the High King's face, he asked. "Or is it a Fae whom bothers you my Lord?"

"That I even have to claim him as Fae," growled Oberon with low fury, "Is a burden I can no longer bear."

Gathering his long robes about him, Periwinkle took a seat. "Ah," he said with sympathetic perception. "The Goblin King, Jareth."

"My beloved sister's son," the angry retort came, The High King found even this to be too difficult to say without it coming out a slur. "That devil spawn she has saddled us with."

It was not the first time that Periwinkle had witnessed such a retort coming from the High King. Having been in his court at the time of the incident, Peri had witnessed worse. "I was under the impression that the being in question had been designated a position with in another realm," he smiled coyly at the irate Oberon. Was I mistaken?"

"Therein rests my problem," a firm hand came down with a thud on the table. "I need to know if he's still bound by The_** Escheat Laws.**_" Leaning on the table, his hands turning white with the pressure, Oberon demanded, "Is he?"

Long delicate fingers rested on the chin of the Fae Judge as he contemplated. "Actually," he admitted carefully. "I'm not sure." Long fingers left the chin and waved about in the air casually. "I mean he has citizenship as a Fae, but he's also the Goblin King of the Labyrinth… it's an interesting dilemma… after all his functioning puts him into much closer proximity with mortals on a regular basis."

"But does he have to adhere to the _**Escheat Laws?" **_Oberon demanded on edge.

Periwinkle nodded nonchalantly, "As a Fae he is bound by the same laws that we are, yes."

"You're sure," a thin sneer formed where the frown had been.

"As a Fae, yes of course," the Lord Adjudicator speculated. "If he is proclaiming himself a Fae King, he is obligated and duty-bound to uphold, enforce and obey the _**Escheat Laws"**_

A firm hand slapped the table again this time in joy, "I've got him!" The High King declared in a bold boast. "And this will be the nail that locks his coffin!" He drew a long satisfied breath. "I can demand his removal." He looked utterly pleased.

--

The crystal in the pale hand shattered. Olwyn stood up, "That is the last straw," she muttered. Crossing the floor of the tower room she moved to where the mirror stood. It was a vanity that Oberon had encouraged, one that she had never given much attention to until this moment. She stood before the looking glass, spread out her arms and brought them up above her head where she clapped her beautiful hands together loudly. Years of having been exiled to this tower had taught her to focus and hone her skills. "Image in the mirror," she breathed deeply, commandingly. "Come forth." Lowering her arms she stepped back as the image from the mirror stepped forward.

"Command me," the image of Olwyn bid her mistress.

"You must be seen as me," Olwyn motioned the image to the chair in which she herself always took her seat. "Stitch as I would, weave, and spin," She directed the faux image. "Be me."

"Yes, Mistress," the image moved to the chair and took her seat, just as Olwyn would. She lifted her needle and began to work on the tapestry.

Olwyn opened a cedar chest that lay at the foot of the bed she had been given here in the prison of this tower room. Within was a cloak entirely made of the thick fowler's knots. She draped it over her shoulders, wrapping herself against the cold of the night. "Remember," she warned cautiously, "Be me."

Still working on the needle work, the image had not even turned her face to look her way. "I shall." She promised as she worked on, oblivious to the presence of the real lady of the tower.

Drawing a crystal from the air, the princess breathed upon it lightly. It changed color, from clear to dark, nearly black. Extending the hand that held the orb, Olwyn pressed it to the wall, opening a portal. Stepping through her vanished from the tower room, leaving behind the false image of her-self. In the portal vanished as soon as Olwyn was within it. Lifting the orb the Lady of the Tower uttered words of enchantment, powerful words… the first true magic words ever uttered. "_**Anáil dragan uisce orth bhais betha, do cheol déanta.**_"

At first it seemed little or nothing had happened, except for a slight tingling in the hand holding the orb above her. Closing her ebony eyes, drawing slow and even breaths, Olwyn allowed herself to become one with the flow of energy. "_**Anáil dragan uisce orth bhais betha, do cheol déanta.**_" She repeated with utter calm and assurance. This time the sphere in her hand burst into light, and the space where she stood was surrounded by a vortex. With more confidance the Daughter of the house of the High Fae Race cried out once more, "_**Anáil dragan uisce orth bhais betha, do cheol déanta.**_" The vortex moved faster and she could feel herself being pulled into its spinning heart. "_**Dragon's breath, charm of death and life, thy omen of making. I Olwyn**_ _**Tuatha de Danaan**__** command you to do my bidding."**_ She could feel the power rush through her. "Take me to the lands of the Labyrinth!"

There was a roaring in her ears, and the princess felt her body floating as if she had wings. The fowler's net cloak stretched out, she extended her arms, and the cloak fluttered out behind her. Olwyn rose up into the vortex, transported instantly from the between that was hidden from even Mighty Oberon. She had no fears, for she had experienced this sort of power before, long, long ago. She had never felt so free, as she did at this moment.

The vortex carried her away from the isle of her imprisonment to the outer rim of the Labyrinth. Where she landed gently and the whirlwind dissipated as quickly as it had arisen. Serene, tranquil, completely composed, Olwyn released the dark orb. Allowing it to float effortlessly above her giving light to her path. She shook out the fowler's net cloak and her gown, setting herself to rights before surveying where it was that she'd landed. Her eye was drawn to a tree, where a phantom image of an antique clock hung before evaporating into nothingness.

"There's been a runner recently," she observed extending a hand toward the empty space in the tree, drawing it back quickly when she heard a man's voice speak, the sound drew a startled gasp from the Fae Princess. _**The**_ _**voice came from behind her. "Turn back, Sarah. Turn back, before it is too late." **_Olwyn closed her ebony eyes and listened again as it floated on the windy hillside. _**"Turn back, Sarah. Turn back, before it is too late."**_ She knew it would repeat over and over, and she listened to the sound of the voice. "Jareth," she said with knowing.

"My son."

With her eyes closed the Fae Princess could place herself closer to the emotions that had been spoken here. She felt the presence of two forces, one male, and the other female. "Speak," she whispered and opened her eyes, seeing what had happened here only hours ago.

_**Sarah was looking at the castle. It seemed to be a long way off, but not impossibly far to travel. It depended on what she would encounter in the valley, how easily it could be crossed. Was the darkness down there perpetual? "It doesn't look that far," she said, and heard in her voice the effort she was making to sound brave. **_

_**Jareth was at her elbow now. He looked at her, with a smile that was icy. "It's farther than you think." Pointing at a tree, he added, "And the time is shorter." His long soft tendrils of hair brushed over the face of the girl, causing her to shiver nervously. **_

_**Sarah saw that an antique wooden clock had appeared in the tree, as though growing from a branch. On it were marked the hours to thirteen, as on the nursery clock in the lightning. **_

_**"You have thirteen hours to unriddle the Labyrinth," Jareth told her, "before your baby brother becomes one of us."His voice betrayed his feelings, something he'd never done. He was remorseful, and more giving than he'd ever been… but then this was no ordinary girl… this was the creature who's very soul had called out to him. **_

_**"Us?" **_

_**Jareth nodded. "Forever." He began to back away, lest he faulted all together and give more away than he had a right to. He had already given her fair, no, more than fair warning. He only hoped she'd heed it. 'Such a pity,' he thought to himself shaking his head as he backed away. **_

_**Magic still hummed in the air. Sarah was standing still, hair tossing in the wind, looking out across the valley toward the castle. After a while, she said, "Tell me where I start." **_

_**She waited for an answer, and finally she heard him say, "What a pity."He and his voice faded away. Leaving the girl standing and staring at the place where he had been. **_

Olwyn opened her eyes, "How charming," she exclaimed in a soft voice. "My son is a romantic." The wistful look was now replaced with peaceful calm and happiness. She looked down the hillside, and snapped her fingers altering the orb she wished to move on. Once her pathway was effacingly lit, she raised her skirts so she would not become entangled in them and carefully moved down the hillside. The hot wind that had been making lazy dust devils on the hillside cooled, not to a chill, but more temperate, and pleasant. Dust devils died away and the hillside that had seemed dead now burst once more into flower. What had been a sandy hill was now carpeted in wild grasses and ivy along the winding path.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11.**

The girl has strutted off with resolve however very shortly after they had left the hillside, Sarah's fatigue returned with a vengeance. Her legs were feeling like rubber bands, and her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. She stumbled, caught herself, moved on and stumbled again. Determined not to appear weak, single-minded and resolute in her unwavering drive, she pushed on even as what strength she was displaying ebbed.

Jareth watched from a few paces behind her, enjoying his view. She was nothing if not appealing; her form had pleased him from the start. Now it gave him more than pleasure to watch her, it gave him satisfaction to know she was weakening. Soon, he told himself, soon she'd be ready to negotiate an end to the torment. Her fumbling steps told him that she was weakening, and that the fatigue of having run the Labyrinth the first time had set in upon her. How long could she last, after all she was only human.

Her second stumble and the way she forced herself to go on should have made him feel scorn and disdain for her humanity. Instead he found himself admiring the vivacity and dynamism and drive that Sarah dug deep into her being to give her the strength to keep pushing on. 'She is no ordinary girl', he mused to himself, admiring his adversary. Though they were foes for now, he could see himself enjoying her company. She had wit, and grace when she cared to display them, and she was not hard on his eyes, not at all. She stumbled again and he moved forward to offer assistance. She pulled her arm free and rebuked him with but one hostile glance. He backed up and watched with amusement as she moved ahead stubbornly on her own.

"Sarah," his calling her name halted her steps. "You seem perturbed."

The girl who had been avoiding him, turned and glared. "What is the point of all this?" she asked with a demonstrative wave about her. "I am sure you've got better things to do than to hash up the fact that you lost," her voice was sounding rough and gritty, having lost the velvety aspect when they left the glen. "Or do you like provoking battles you can't win?"

"The point of all this," he teased as he approached her with renewed strength even as hers lagged. "Is that I can and will win."

"You're very smug for someone who lost to a girl," she retorted in a snippy tone.

"Game's not over and the night is young," he taunted mockingly.

Her face faltered for a moment, she looked up at the night sky; it resembled the way the sky looked at home just after dark. A shaky hand went up into her hairline and she had reacted with a frustrated sound before she pulled herself together once more. "It's not fair," she looked up at him with pained eyes. "I'm tired, and this is not fair." She stomped a foot, but only made her own legs feel rubbery. "There is no point to this! It's not even a contest… there's no prize to win, no goal…."

"Isn't there," he harassed with an overly pleasant smile. "Oh there is a prize, you just don't see it."

"This is not like before," she complained. "Then I had a goal, a reason to push on!"

"Ah yes," his eyelids lowered, hooding his beautiful eyes and making him look dreamy and sinister at the same moment. "The baby," he said with a husky voice.

Thinking she'd opened a door a crack that should remain closed, Sarah advanced on the Goblin King and pressed an index finger onto the dark Goblin Armor breastplate. "You leave my little brother out of this," she ordered harshly.

"You brought him up," Jareth said feigning innocence. "I was just…"

"Just nothing," she said poking her finger into the leathery armor. "Leave Toby out of this! This is between you and me!"

"If you insist," he agreed cordially.

Sarah had expended more energy than she'd intended, and now she felt dizzy. She staggered back, only to find herself being caught in the arms of her foe before she staggered to the ground. "What are you doing?" She squeaked.

"Just lending a lady a hand," Jareth said as he helped her keep to her feet. His voice was soft and sympathetic, "Nice young girl," he crooned, "Big bad world…" He kept his hands on her arms and suggested softly. "Surrender, little girl, you don't have to put yourself through all this…."

A tired whimper sounded as she pulled herself free. "No!" She refused his suggestion and his further aid. "I'm fine!... Let's get on with this." She looked at the path and saw a flash of lightning near the castle as it loomed in the distance. "Are we going into the storm?"

"So it would seem," Jareth said calmly.

Her face now a pouty mask, the girl made a swipe at her eye with the cuff of her poet's shirt. "Fine, let's get on with it." She headed toward the castle.

"Yes," growled the intrigued King, fascinated and captivated by his charming foe. "Let's."

--

Hoggle was hunkered down at the gate that he could not make open. The little Fairy Queen of the Swarm was seated crossed legged on a ledge of stone that protruded from the wall. Both were miserable, and worried.

"They've been in there for hours," Hoggle muttered. "And he won't let any of us help her."

"What did you expect?" asked Queen Acacia, her little voice straining with anger. "You know the Royals of the Higher Castes don't take losing gracefully. You should have warned her!"

"Oh like you did?" he accused hotly. "You bit her and it didn't stop her from entering." He indicated the wall behind them with a thumb. "She's stubborn, that one! Thinks because she's read every fairy tale written she knows it all…"

"He's stubborn too," Queen Acacia sighed deeply. "Fine pair they make."

"No," Hoggle growled. "They do not… She's kind and sweet and innocent! And him, he's Jareth! The Goblin King."

Astonishment registered in the eyes of the little Fairy Queen. "You're jealous!"

"Am not," denied the gardener.

Cocking her head to one side, placing her hands on her knees she smiled, "Yes you are."

Hoggle glared at her, "Just because I care about what happens to my friend," he argued, "Does not mean I'm jealous."

"Ha!" scoffed the little fairy.

Losing the battle, the little gardener held his head in his hands, "I wonder what is happening in there, what is he doing to her?"

Flittering off the ledge and landing on Hoggle's shoulder the little Queen stroked his ear, "You don't want to know," she advised.

--

The path opened into a garden, full of night blooming flowers of every color and discretion one could image. Sarah's jaw dropped at the splendor of it all. She could smell elegant and erotic aromas floating on the gentle breeze in contrast to the storm that loomed over the castle in the distance. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

"Yes," Jareth agreed. "Like a young girl's dreams."

His words disturbed her, "What do you know of a young girl's dreams," she challenged frostily.

"More perhaps than you would care for me to," he mused as he took a deep breath of the fragrant air. "I know one girl's dreams all too well."

Remembering the orb he'd offered her in the nursery, Sarah shuddered. "You are being rude."

Lazily he looked over at her, "Not yet," he teased. "I've not mentioned one thing from them, just that I am intimately aware of them."

"You make it sound dirty," she pouted, no longer able to take pleasure from the surroundings.

"You're the one who is reading my meaning that way," he cautioned. "One of us has a dirty mind," he agreed before adding. "And I don't think it's me."

"Bullshit," she spat. "You're all… smarmy and sexy and…" his sudden nearness halted her words.

"And what, Sarah?" he coaxed her to continue, knowing she was weakening to her own deep seated needs and desires. "What?"

"It's not fair," she whimpered.

Snakelike, his right hand slid past her arm, over her waist and he drew her back against him. "No, my dear, it's not." He agreed. "Little in life is, Sarah."

She leaned back on him and closed her eyes, "I don't know how to take you," she whispered wearily. "One moment you're all mean and pushy and the next you're… nice."

"Nice," he whispered at her ear. "You think so?"

She nodded, mournfully. "But you're my enemy," she bemoaned. "And I can't trust you…"

Warmth filled his being; the armor suddenly seemed far too tight, and intensely warm. Jareth closed his eyes; the scent of the garden was displaced by the sweet scent that cascaded off the girl like a waterfall. Drinking it in, he found himself wanting to spare her, forgive her and forget the pain she'd caused him. What did it matter he asked himself? Was it really so surprising that she had fought so hard when others had given up without much of a fight? He had known from the start that Sarah was no ordinary girl; he should never have underestimated her drive. Needing to express this he whispered in her ear, gently. "Sarah, I ask so little," his voice was plaintive in its dispensing of the plea.

"It's too much," she whimpered, but she didn't fight to be free of the strong arm that now supported her weight. "Can't you see that?"

"Let me rule you," he beseeched in a husky hungry voice as his face moved gently along of hers. "And you shall have everything…_**you can have everything you want ... everything you have ever dreamed of ... your dreams, Sarah ..." **_

Shuddering to her soul at the words uttered in her ear, a garbled sound escaped though her lips as she pulled free. She opened her eyes, now the green orbs were filling with unshed tears. "No," she refused him, but the rebuke was weaker than before. "I've had enough of this garden," wiping tears from the corner of her eyes, "I think I'm allergic to something here," she complained, "Where to next, your majesty?"

Jareth was dealing with his own mixture of emotions, anger at being rebuked once more, pain at seeing her so weakened, and strangest of all, he felt ashamed for the part he was playing in her downfall. One moment he was looking upon her with sad sympathy in his stormy eyes, the next the cruelness returned and his face hardened. "It's not far now," he said icily, his hand pointed to the Castle that seemed to have grown in the last few moments. "Just ahead."

"Let's get this over with," she moved past him, heading toward the towering palace.

Stepping quickly to follow her, he plotted how he was going to crush her, break her spirit and be done with this nonsense.

--

Hoggle's bent head came up, something was changing, and he could feel it. Something was different in the air. "Who is that," he asked looking at the female figure coming down what had once been a windswept hillside. "Do you see her?"

Queen Acacia stopped trying to comfort him, she looked the same direction he was and a small strangling sound came from deep within her. "No, it's not possible," she uttered.

"What's not," asked the mystified gardener. "Do you know her?"

"Yes," confessed the little Fairy Queen. "All Fae know of her."

"I'm not a Fae," Hoggle reminded the little creature who was trying to hide behind his ear. "Who is she?"

"She is called Olwyn," whispered the fretful fairy.

"Olwyn," Hoggle repeated the name but it drew no recognition from him. "But who is she?"

Acacia shook like a leaf, "She's the sister of the High King, Oberon."

"What's she doing here," Hoggle wondered aloud. "And why is the landscape changing where she steps?"

"She is a source and spreader of life," the little voice of the fairy alleged. "In her path that which was dormant, comes to life once more."

Hoggle feeling he was going to be in the presence of royalty stood up and began to bow to the elegant being who was strolling his way. She was unlike anything he'd ever seen, even her simple garments seemed to have more elegance than the robes of the Fae Kings and Queens he'd had the pleasure of seeing. In her gait was a sophistication and inner peace that could only be admired. As she drew closer, that which had been lifeless and stagnate seemed to melt away into a beautiful countenance. Even the slimy and rusting waters of the pond changed. The air became fragrant, and the waters sprung to life, the long dormant fountain that was part of the water feature suddenly leapt to life.

"My Lady," he addressed her formally and politely. "How may I be of service to you?"

Olwyn smiled peacefully at the little gardener. "Have you a name." she asked quietly.

"Hoggle," he stammered nervously.

She noticed the little fairy trying to hide behind the gardener's head. "Queen Acacia," she addressed the little Fae slightly reservedly. "You cannot hide from me," she stated coolly. "I do hope I can count on your~ discretion."

Coming out from behind the cap on Hoggle's head, the little Fairy swallowed, "discretion," she questioned. "About what?"

"My presence," was the Princess's reply. Olwyn chuckled softly, "Diplomacy not being a strong suit of your ilk," She clasped her hands carefully before her. "I suggest that you and your companion accompany me on my~ stroll."

Hoggle's eyes widened. "Stroll," he swallowed hard. "Where?"

"To the castle beyond the Goblin City of course," Olwyn answered.

Casting an eye at the wall, the gardener had his doubts and they sounded in his tone. "The gate is locked and I cannot open it."

"Such a little thing," mused the Fae Princess. "Will not deter us." She streaked out one hand and the gate flung itself wide. "Come, Hoggle and bring your little friend as well…." Olwyn stepped toward the open gate, the orb above her lighting the way.

Both Hoggle and Queen Acacia looked at one another with fear, "What do we do," he asked in a hushed voice.

"You heard the Lady," Queen Acacia urged. "We are to be her companions on this stroll."

"Heads are going to roll," lamented Hoggle as he entered the gate.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12. **

Oberon stood over Periwinkle as he went over the scrolls, "You're sure," he asked yet again.

"Yes, I'm sure," the voice of the Adjudicator sounded agitated at having been questioned over and over on this one point. "I know the law! I've been practicing for centuries," he grumbled as he read the passage for the thousandth time. "The law is exact," he assured his irritated High King.

"Call for a tribunal to join us…we are going to pay a call upon my nephew." Oberon gloated, particularly dancing in his joy.

Still in legal mode, Periwinkle cleared his throat, "Sire, a tribunal is very serious."

"Indeed," the High King clasped his hands loudly. "At long last I shall be free to take over that hell hole and instill some decent person…"

"I didn't say that you could do that," protested the Judge. "You can most likely remove the lad, but as to instilling a king of your choosing, no." He swiftly followed the jubilant Oberon out of the chamber. "You have no say over who rules the Labyrinth… it's an Underground Kingdom… it belongs to the Underworld."

"I'll settle for what I can get," Oberon stated coldly. "If it's only getting rid of that pompous ass my sister gave birth to," his sneer returned. "So be it."

--

Walking in her garden, the High Queen pondered the problem of having frozen mortal time. She wondered why it was Jareth would even risk such an action. Surely the boy must understand that his actions had consequences. Her ears, sensitive to the mood of the court picked up snickers and jests being directed at the High King's sister and her son. It galled her that she had to pretend not to notice. Were it up to her, Tatiana would have waved a hand and sent all the gossips away, never to return. She would much prefer a court where Olwyn was welcomed and not mocked.

'Vain, petty creatures,' she scoffed within her mind; 'Thinking themselves better than the lady in the tower. All because her brother tolerates and encourages this distasteful offensive behavior towards the poor mother and child.'

She glanced sideways without moving her head, taking in the body language of those about her. 'Foolish beings, which think themselves better than all others,' she bemoaned in her secret thoughts. 'These who laughed and jeered at me when Oberon hoodwinked me into falling in love with that poor mortal his henchman gave the head of an ass to….' As if the thought of him had conjured him up, Puck appeared directly in the High Queen's path. She halted her steps and looked at him with mild distaste. "Puck," she greeted him formally, "How now?"

The Hobgoblin bowed deeply, most courteously to the Queen, "Well my Lady Queen, and thee?" his voice didn't seem as overjoyed as others in the garden this night.

Perceiving his unspoken state of restlessness and uneasiness, the High Queen scrutinized his demeanor. "Puck," she lowered her voice so their words would not be witnessed by others. "You seem vexed, can that be?"

Looking more humanoid than like a woodland sprite, or a faun, the young couriter's mask of indifference dropped like a rock. "I am bothered," he admitted lowering his eyes, hoping the Queen would just move on. "I beg your pardon, ma'am."

Extending out a hand, touching the sleeve of the prankster, the Queen invited gently, "Walk with me good Puck."

His eyes, so unlike the eyes of most Fae, wild and black as the night, rose up to meet the deep blue eyes of the Fairy Queen. "Madam," he warned curtly. "We should not."

Her hand remained upon his arm. "I insist," she allowed her voice to become more resolute. "I have need to speak with you."

Looking at the disinterested crowds wandering the night garden, he relented and nodded his consent as he turned to join her. "This is foolhardy Tatiana." His voice was weary, and full of woe. Gone were the days of prankster Puck and his youthful image had given way to a man in his prime. "I am out of favor."

She knew it to be true; the High King was fickle in his favor. Puck how had served him well for centuries without question was now cast aside like a cur. "I had no hand in your undoing," she pledged.

Wistfully he glanced her way, "You of all had the most reason to be overjoyed at my downfall."

Seeing the path to the rose grove was empty, the Queen directed their steps that direction. "Puck, I fear my husband goes too far this time." She lamented. "It was ghastly enough when he forced Olwyn into that tower… depraved and wicked when he took her babe from her arms… but this…" she shuddered.

"He plots Jareth's downfall," Puck questioned quietly, disturbed by the thought. "On what grounds?"

"_**The Escheat**_," she mournfully whispered.

"How so," Puck asked, now he didn't care who saw him with the High Queen. If there were a chance of salvation among his own, he was willing to take whatever risk was nessessary.

"I don't know," she said desperately. "He thinks he's found an infraction… and you know what he's like when he's crossed." She disliked Oberon's constant need to be at the top of whatever pile was forming. "He resents that Jareth was chosen to be a Goblin King."

Speaking with brash honesty, Puck observed, "Oberon resents Jareth, period."

"Agreed," lamented the High Queen. "He takes the boy from his mother, and demands that I raise him, and then refuses to even be in the same room with him unless it's for the courts sake." She paused in the center of the Queen's rose garden. "I had thought that his being so far from our court would make a difference… alas it has only made Oberon more resentful."

"You are certain a plot is afoot," Puck asked none too politely. "If I am drawn into a trap, I will become an enemy you shall not want."

Lowering the lids of her eyes, the High Queen confessed her sin against her husband to her one time foe. "I have warned Olwyn."

"Dearest heavens," Puck staggered back. "You're serious." The lovely Queen nodded and the Hob-goblin ran a hand into his long hair. "I beg you Madam, please protect yourself…" He took both her hands into his. "I shall bid you adieu, for I fear I shall not be allowed to return to these shores once my work is done." Raising her hands up to his lips he kissed her fingers for the first and final time. "I never meant you harm, my Lady. I sought only to please my Lord."

"I know that now," Tatiana whispered. "I fear my treatment of you lost me a friend."

The eyes of the Hob-goblin met and held the eyes of the Queen. "I have always been your friend," he informed her. "Keep save, my Lady."

"Good hunting, Puck." Her fingers trembled in his hands. "Be careful…"

--

The great hall of the palace on the isle of Avalon filled with the highest ranking lords of the Fae realms. Oberon watched with barely hidden pleasure, so many who were gathered had a grudge against the Goblin King. He knew he could use that fact to his benefit, and Oberon smiled.

Periwinkle stood beside the High King on the dais. "Sire there is still time to put an end to this," his voice was urgent. "Soon it will be too late."

"The die is cast," Oberon murmured. "For better or worse." He stood to greet his full court, and the Fae Tribunal. "I thank you all for coming so quickly and leaving your homes."

"What is going on," demanded a rotund Fae Lord who looked like he'd eaten a sour persimmon. "Who has tampered with the bounds of time?"

"This can only be the work of the Goblin King, Jareth," an accusation rose out of the crowd.

Hidden behind a pillar on the mezzanine above, Puck listened to the Fae cast disturbances upon the youngest King of the Labyrinth. His eyes watched Oberon, who was taking pleasure in this circus.

Oberon held up a hand and the room quieted, "I am sorry to have to inform you all that Jareth, King of the Goblins has not only halted time in the mortal world…and our own, but he has broken _**The Escheat**_," sounding as remorseful as he could without cracking a smile the High King looked pleadingly toward his court. "He must be punished."

Puck heard the rest of the details, and the cry went up for Jareth to be dethroned. Puck had to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle the gasp as it rose in his throat. Oberon had gone too far, and Puck could be a loyal lap dog to the Fae no more. He turned, walked into a darkened hall and prayed he was alone. To be caught now would be disaster.

"Sweet blanket of night," he uttered softly. "Open and cloak me…_**Anáil dragan uisce orth bhais betha, do cheol déanta.**_" He could feel the power of the incantation, the oldest of the old words; the charm of making. The rest of the isle was unaware of his exit. The call for retribution and reprisal upon the Goblin King was too great for any, including the High King to notice that Puck had left their company.

--

His landing was softer than he'd expected it to be. Puck had expected to find himself on a barren windswept hillside. Instead he was surrounded by the fragrance of ivy and clover and sweet grass. "What is this," he pondered aloud. The stars in the sky were at the right place, and looking from the hillside he could see the castle beyond the goblin city lit by flashes of lightning. Yet the hillside itself had been changed. Looking down he saw patches of shamrocks and white flowers. "Olwyn has passed this way," Puck mused. "So Oberon could not keep you locked away, eh?" he chuckled. "So much the better!" he laughed aloud. "Oh this shall be fun," he said with some of his youthful merriment returning. "Onward then," he said as he dashed down the path of shamrocks and flowers.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13.**

Peering cautiously inside the gate, Olwyn did not like what she saw. It was dark and forbidding, eerie music humming in the air seemed to be more intense at the entrance. There was a smell of things rotting, and the Fae Princess turned a haughty eye on the gardener. "Why has this garden been allowed to fall to rack and ruin?"

Hoggle staggered back, nearly falling out the gate. "Allowed," he stammered. "Lady this is how I found it!" seeing her disbelieve Hoggle waved his arms at the walls covered in moss and lichen, it was dark and stank. "I swear this is how I found it!"

"It's true," the little Fairy Queen on his shoulder confirmed. "It has been this way for a very, very long time, Lady Olwyn. Long before Jareth arrived… others tried to sit upon the Goblin throne, some were even Fae sent here by your brother… under what claim only heaven knows… but it has been this way for a very long time."

Pursing her lips, the Fairy Princess sighed. "I remember a garden of lush proportions." She looked at the walls, reaching a hand out to touch the slimy mildew. "With ivy covered walls…"

"Beggin' your pardon, missy…" Hoggle stammered. "But what was a fine lady like you doing in a place like this?"

Gently the woman with sad eyes touched the face of the gardener. "Oh don't be taken in by its run down condition, little man." She smiled and the orb above her seemed to give off more light. "This was once a beautiful garden… and I came here…" she held her words, and after a moment whispered. "Suffice it to say, I was here." She walked forward, as she did the muck and mire of years of neglect melted away, and the wall sprouted new green buds on vines long thought dead.

"In the Goblin's Labyrinth," Hoggle eyed her with suspicion. A wicked grin spread over Olwyn's face and she giggled. The little Fairy Queen giggled as well. Hoggle looked at one than the other. "There's a tale here," nodded the little man as he hobbled after the Fae Princess. "One worth the telling, I'll be wagerin'."

"Telling for another time," warned the little Fairy. "Now we must move forward."

The orb overhead gave light to the path, but the changes fell into darkness, and were not noticed as much by the trio walking the honed stone path within the gate of the Labyrinth. Olwyn looked at Hoggle, estimated his character and personality. She knew he was part of what had happened here a few hours ago. "Hoggle," she addressed him coyly. "Tell me about Sarah."

Hoggle's steps stopped abruptly, he looked at the Fae woman with suspicious eyes. "Why would you ask about Sarah?" He growled at her, "How do you even knows about her?" Queen Acacia tugged roughly on his ear and pointed up. Hoggle's eyes followed the finger on the tiny hand; he saw the orb above the Fae Queen. "Oh," he sighed. "I suppose you Fae all know that trick," he grumbled.

"No," Olwyn admitted without revealing much to the little gnomish man. "Not all." She moved forward her long fowler's net cloak making a perplexingly bizarre sound as it dragged on the cut stones of the path. "So do tell me about this Sarah," she coaxed gently. "What kind of creature is she?"

"Mortal," Hoggle stated flatly, not inclined to say more. He was most protective of his friend.

A compassionate gleam came into the ebony eyes of the Fae Princess, "That much I could surmise for myself little man." She admonished soothingly. "Were I to promise you that I will not use what information you give me against this mortal, would that put you at ease?"

"No," Hoggle said boldly. "I've no reason to trust your kind," his words were harsh and he was immediately sorry for having said them to this Fae, as she had never done anything to him. "Beggin' yer pardon, my Lady."

Taking time to bend down, so she was on eye level with the gardener, Olwyn gazed into his big worried eyes. "You've suffered at the hands of my race, and for this I am so sorry, little man." Sympathy surged out of the Fae woman, "I promise you, Hoggle," she said with absolute sincerity, "I mean your mortal no harm. I only want to know of her."

"You won't hurt Sarah," he questioned, looking into the soulful eyes.

"No, I won't hurt her." Olwyn promised.

"She's my friend," Hoggle explained in a strained voice, hushed and nervous at making this admission to a Fae, "My first friend." Guiltily he looked away, "She even forgave me after I betrayed her…"

"Really," Olwyn listened without judgment, and her countenance was one of quiet tranquility. "She must be a very extraordinary."

"She's a bit of a silly ass," the little Fairy Queen of the swarm piped in. "Believing all the silly things she'd read… expecting fairies to grant wishes," she scoffed and ducked the hand Hoggle swung at her.

The inner wall corridor that led into the Labyrinth was now transformed; it was once more the lush and green leafy verdant passageway. Olwyn was more aware of the transformation than her companions who were too distracted speaking of Sarah to see what was happening about them. "I see," she looked at her littler cousin, "So you too are acquainted with this person?"

"Yes," Queen Acacia strutted proudly to the edge of Hoggle's shoulder, with as much dignity as if she were dressed in royal robes instead of the thread bare rag that covered her.

Olwyn understood something of Fae pride, even in the lower Fae, "How is it that you do not wear garments spun of silken milkweed with dewdrops as adornments as I last saw you?"

Resentment flooded Acacia's pretty little face. "Oberon has decreed that we are not worthy of such splendid garments," the little voice was bitter. "He took our beautiful garments and our jewels and left us in sack cloths."

The expression of shock on Hoggle's face told Olwyn that he had never seen the little fairy in anything other than the lowly drab little shapeless shift. "Poor dear," sympathized the princess. "Did he also rob you of your ability to keep the garden at the outer wall and the pond area refreshed?"

Acacia looked at Hoggle, the look was scolding, "He had help with that," she grumbled.

"I was only following orders," Hoggle defended himself before he could be accused. "You know that!"

Amused but careful not to show it too much the Fae Princess asked, "Whose orders?"

Both the little Queen and the gardener answered in tandem, "Oberon's."

Hoggle moved forward, plaintively. "Try to understand," he pleaded. "I was an outcast, even among the other dwarfs…" He hung his head, "I'm a… Boggart…" he made the admission expecting the Fae woman to turn haughty and condescending, when she didn't he continued. "We've a bit of Gnome on me mother's side… and I like gardens…." In happier days, Hoggle recalled life before Oberon had exiled him to life here in the Underground. He spoke about the cozy little woodland cottage, with its stone wall and well kept garden. He had lived alone, away from others, and all had been peaceful until the day he'd had the unfortunate bad luck to cross the path of the High King. "His majesty is not well disposed toward those whom he considers inferior to himself." Hoggle lamented. "He exiled me just because I was not comely in feature or limb."

"I'm well acquainted with my brother's ego," Olwyn lamented. "So my, oh so power happy brother sent you here, to what purpose?"

Fidgeting the little man shied. "He told me the little fairy swarms were no more than common pests and it was my job to keep them from multiplying…" his own guilt at having preformed such a duty made Hoggle heart sick.

"He ordered you to do what," gasped the Princess.

Hoggle bit at his lip, fidgeting and looking ready to jump out of his skins, "It was awful," he whispered, fearful of the sound reaching ears he didn't want to hear this confession.

Olwyn's eyes widened, she perceived something unsaid. It was the behavior of these two who Oberon had pitted against each other. There was animosity, but it seemed more a façade, than a true hatred. The little fairy Queen was standing on the shoulder of the one who was sent to murder her little clan, comfortingly petting and stroking him. "What did Oberon give you to use against Queen Acacia's swarm?"

"A sprayer," Hoggle confessed. "It was filled with… sump-water and a vile concoction of herbs and dark flowers…"

"Stump-water," gasped the horrified princess.

Hoggle nodded, ashamed. "He also told me it had grave-dust, jay-feathers, and rowan ash…" his knees were buckling.

Olwyn looked at the little Queen, who was now leaning into the tearful Hoggle. "You replaced the mixture," she guessed.

Hoggle nodded, "I couldn't kill the little creatures, no matter how pesky they are," he sobbed. "I changed the formula so that it would just stun them… and I could look like I was killing them."

"You went along with this?" Oberon's sister questioned her smaller relation.

"It kept us off Oberon's mind," Acacia insisted with an upraised chin, defiantly. "It kept us safe."

"But Oberon has no authority here," Olwyn protested. "He has no dominance here, this is part of the Underground, only the Lords of the Underworld have a say here."

"At the time, there was no king over the Labyrinth," Acacia's voice was pained. "Oberon said that what was inside the Labyrinth was goblin held, not what was outside the gate and wall…."

"How like my power mad brother," the disgusted princess laid the blame on Oberon without fear. She rose to her feet, and looked down at Hoggle. "He wanted you to kill Acacia, knowing he could not do it directly as it would be viewed as a breech of his precious _**Escheat**_," her tone was harsh but changed as she looked at the pair who had been forced into animosity.  
"How clever of you both to find a way to make it look like you were complying," she sighed. "Hoggle, Queen Acacia and her clan, what you call a swarm… keep the outer garden outside the wall of this Labyrinth alive with magic…" She schooled her face. "Oberon sought to destroy it for it was not under his dominion."

"It made no sense to me," Hoggle shrugged still trying to understand. "I mean Acacia and her swarm… aren't they Fae?"

The little Queen and the Princess looked at one another wisely. "Not in the eyes of Oberon." They said together.

Hoggle shrugged.

"So my understanding is that the Labyrinth was in this condition when you arrived?" Olwyn asked the gardener. "Did you arrive before or after the present King?"

"After," Hoggle said with a grim expression.

"You have a problem with King Jareth," Olwyn asked seemingly innocently.

Hoggle puffed out his cheeks and let go of a great long stream of air. "More like he's got problems with me…." He scowled at Acacia as she burst into snide laughter. "That's enough from you," he warned.

The Fae Princess paced a few steps before turning and pacing back, her face showed she was deep in thought. "Oberon gave you more duties than just… picking off fairies." She said at last with grim conviction.

"Yes," Hoggle sniveled.

"He told you to spy on Jareth," Olwyn suggested without hint of anger or annoyance.

Nodding, the gnomish man confessed. "Yes."

Olwyn looked at the Fairy Queen seated now on Hoggle's shoulders and trying to go unnoticed, "You as well?" Her inquiry was answered with a curt nod. "Oh dear," she exclaimed. "It would seem my brother is unhinged." Neither of her companions felt that statement needed to be addressed and stayed silent. "What are King Jareth's duties as you understand them to be, Hoggle?"

"He's the Goblin King," Hoggle said with a dramatic flourish of his hand. "He rules the goblins of this kingdom and…" he lowered his voice, "Collects wished away children." His big eyes looked at the wall he was standing besides, wondering if there was an opening he could dash into and hide.

"I see," Olwyn now tapped her chin with steepled fingers. "Was he given this task by Oberon?"

Both Hoggle and Acacia stared at one another. "NO," they said in union.

Olwyn smiled, "And still Oberon thinks he can have his say," she laughed. "Oh how typical of him!" She looked up at the orb above her, "Come, we've a long way to go." She turned to face what looked like a wall. "And I've yet to hear of this Sarah." She moved forward with a grace that was as natural to her as breathing. "And I do so want to know all about her."

Hoggle blinked as they entered the new passage, as the Fae woman strode forward under the light from the dark orb, life sprung into the very stones of the stone canyon. They seemed far lighter and more shaped than before. The hands that topped some of the pillars no longer appeared gnarled and twisted, but long delicate and elegant. "Yes, my Lady…." He said at they followed her. Acacia now sat cross legged upon his shoulder, and wore a secretive smile.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14.**

"Where are we," Sarah asked Jareth who was now once more in the lead. "I don't recognize this place."

"You should," he grumbled, with an outstretched arm he indicated a misshapen mass that looked disarranged where it sat. "Don't you see what that is?" He illuminated the object with a flash of light.

"It was a dream," Sarah argued as she now distinguish the broken sphere that had been once used as a ballroom. "It wasn't real…"

Angry and hurt, Jareth stopped short, turned on her almost violently. "Was it not," he spat at her. "Well there it is, and there it remains." He pointed harshly.

"It was a trick…" Sarah brushed her throbbing brow, "You tricked me… that… peach…" Green eyes spat fire at him as she accused. "Was tainted… poisoned!"

"That peach was a peace offering," he countered. "I thought you understood that." Turning on his heel, he moved forward, "You are supposed to be some kind of expert on Fairy Tale significant facts aren't you?"

"I never read anything about~ peace offering!" She shouted at him, unable to leave the sight of the broken Crystal Ballroom. "I think you're lying!" She crossed her arms. "This is a trick, just another one of your mean spirited stupid lying Goblin King tricks."

Her accusation halted him; at a snail's pace he turned to face her. "A trick," he rumbled. "Mean spirited," he snarled. "I'm not the one who flung a chair into the wall, destroying a perfectly good ballroom!" His anger migrated down to his feet as he stomped back to where she stood defiantly glaring back. "I am not the one who sent the guests tumbling into the night!" A gloved hand wagged leather clad fingers in her face. "You are nothing more than a spoiled, intolerant, ignorant human!" His voice was strained and prickly. "That Crystal Ballroom had been part of the Labyrinth for a millennium! And you destroyed it without a moment's hesitation!"

"It was real," she asked with a raised brow, "Oh and I suppose that spun sugar dress was real as well…" The green eyed beauty argued hotly. "I suppose all that fanfare and coming on to me with the singing and dancing were real too, eh?"

Narrowing his eyes, he hardened his gaze, "Wouldn't you like to know," he challenged in an icy tone.

"I'm not falling for anymore of your tricks," she stepped aggressively towards him. "You led me a merry chase, forced me to play your game, and put unfair road blocks up every time I started to win…" No longer able to restrain her actions, Sarah extended both hands and swiftly, shoved them into the chest of the man standing before her. "You're a spoiled sport!" Her voice was ragged and it came out like a roar.

Never having been treated with such disrespect, Jareth shoved her shoulders in retaliation. "Look who's talking!" His voice matched hers in raggedness suddenly. "Give the bitch everything she wants, and is she happy, no…"

"Fuck off!" she shouted, shoving him again.

Grabbing the wrists as her palms flattened into his chest he yanked her forward. The embattled pair had not noticed the soundless approach of the flock of dark winged Aves that had settled on the wreckage of the onetime elegant, graceful, pleasing to the eye stylish sphere. The shoving and pushing and clawing held the attention of the combatants. As the bodies clashed the pair standing collapsed into a heap of flailing arms and legs and obscenities being shouted back and forth. Thrashing, whirling, and rolling about in the mire that was at the edge of the path, voices sounding more like wounded animals. The Flock stood as silent sentinels, observing but not interfering in the mêlée.

Sarah's hand reached into the wild mane of Fae hair, fingers knotting into the long strands within her grasp. In reprisal Jareth likewise clutched a handful of her tresses. Each snarled at the other, and neither seemed able to see past their own hurt and anger. A lightning bolt and the nearby crash of thunder was all that broke them apart.

Sarah lay on the ground glaring at him, "You bastard," she growled darkly. "I'm tired of you and this stupid game… I want to go home." She whined.

"And I'll be only too glad to see the back of ya…." he spat at her as he pulled himself to his feet. "Get up." He commanded abrasively, his voice grated on his own ears. "There's only a short distance left," he growled.

"I too tired," she yelped as he reached for her arm. "I can't… I can't go on…"

"Then surrender," he taunted with critical eyes, mocking her state of being. "It's so little a thing."

"Stop," she put her hands to her ears, "I won't surrender…" she sat back on her folded legs. "I hate you!"

"Poor Sarah," he mocked making a sympathetic expression toward the girl, crouching down. The look of sympathy changed quickly to one of contempt. "You're weak," he sneered. "You're no match for me," he ridiculed. "Surrender, end this now…"

"No," she moaned, and then cried bitterly. "I want to go home…" she buried her face into her hands and wept.

"We could make a trade," he suggested none too kindly. "Give me something I want… and I'll be only too delighted to send you back home… to the life of dreariness that you deserve."

Sarah's tears ceased and she was gasping for air, "No!" She forced herself to gather all the strength she could, her face became a tortured mask of driven purpose. "I'll not trade you even a tear," she said through gritted teeth.

"But your too tired," he mocked. "You can't go on…"

Sarah stood up, on shaky legs and snorted at him, "Let's go, Goblin King."

Jareth looked at her, eyes outlined in dark circles, tired and on the verge of collapse, valiant and foolish. "Such a pity," he retorted rising to his own feet. "Why must you be so waspish? Consider my offer…"

"You find me waspish now," her trembling voice registered low intense anger. "You don't have any idea of how waspish I can get."

"Were that you were just a lusty wench," lamented the King. "How I would woo thee."

"Be still my heart," she mocked.

"That tongue of yours will get you in trouble, witch," he warned sternly.

She flipped her hand at him, "I care that for you and your warnings." She looked toward the storm looming over the castle. "Why are you dallying here? Is that you're afraid I'll win again?"

"In such a hurry to what fate awaits you," he replied, "By all means… let us away… I tire of this foolish game." He strode past her, not even looking at her. "Follow…" he commanded.

Sarah once his eyes were not upon her, scrutinizing and monitoring her every move, slumped slightly. She was beyond tired, beyond exhausted, she was nearly used up depleted and useless. Her own brain was begging her to rethink the offer he was making without saying what he wanted. Shaking she stumbled to follow.

--

Before the remains of the shattered sphere the Dark Lords convened. Crom shook his head in distress, "Do you think it wise to let this go on?"

"She's near exhausted," observed another.

"It is not finished for them," cautioned Bran, "Once they reach the castle beyond the Goblin City their true trials begin."

"What is this," Llyr-Bel asked in disgust.

"Consider it, foreplay," the High King of the Goblin Dominion mused. He looked at the shattered ballroom, "Pity… it was once a truly lovely room."

"This," Aericura eyed the ruin with reservations and misgivings.

"Aye," Bran murmured, still hearing the haunting lilt of a song on the wind. "Lovely."

Aericura looked at Llyr-Bel who shrugged, it was Crom who understood. "Here," he asked gently.

"Yes," Bran assured him, "Here, long ago." The younger of the Lords turned to look at the shattered glass. Bran took a step toward it lamenting. "Once it knew opulence, and glittering cornices hung with many crystal encrusted chandeliers. Ah the light they did give," he sighed. "There," he pointed inward to the torn fabric dancing like a ghost on the light breeze. "There was hung silk covering, in the palest of milkweed threads. Within and without, iridescent baubles of crystal like the outer skin of this magnificent room," the High King remembered a night long ago, and a woman-child, lovelier than moonlight. "Pity to see it in ruins…"

He motioned for them to stay where they were, ducking his head, he entered the shattered shell. The music that played constantly within his heart now played within the room. The ghosts of the past moved about the room, dancing in and out of shadows. He watched as the couple who were more than just transparent vaporous phantoms descended the curved staircase, pausing in rhythm on each tier of the decent. Her hand on his shoulder, his arm encircling her waist, as he sang the words of his soul, and all Bran could do was watch as it played out.

Bran had seen enough, he knew where it ended; he knew the outcome and turned to leave. But movement at the top of the promenade caught his attention. _**From out of another memory came a clock, the hands just before midnight. It was gold and white and ornately beautiful. At the top of the grand promenade stood a solitary figure, a resplendent figure, upright and blond. The tall sinewy blond was dressed in a midnight blue frock coat, diamante at the neck, shoulders and cuffs. Pale gray silk at his throat in an elegant cravat that was pinned in place with a silver and jet ornamental owl. That same muted gray was visible at his wrists, setting off the pallor of his translucent skin. His legs were covered in slim fitted brushed black doeskin breeches; his boots were of the finest leather and polished to the point of being reflective. In his hand he held a holding a horned mask on a stick, covering most of his face. Seeing someone he lowered the stick, gazed hungrily, and held out his hand. **_

_**A vision of beauty stood before him, dressed in a spun sugar gown the color of mother of pearl, just off the shoulders, with a tightly fitted bodice that revealed feminine womanly curves. In her long dark tresses were silver ornaments, embellished with crystals and leaves. At her throat was a necklace of crystals that matched the encrusted gems in her bodice. Her face was young, her eyes wide, she was the picture of innocence. She looked at the man whose hand was extended toward her as if she expected him to vanish. She looked away, then back, He was still holding out his hand to her, and she took it. Once she was within his arms he began to waltz her down the descending curved staircase, pausing in rhythm on each tier of the decent. Her hand on his shoulder, his arm encircling her waist, as he sang the words of his soul.**_

Bran watched, awe struck, one word escaped his lips. "Jareth…" before the phantoms vanished like motes of dust.

Exiting the ruin, the High King of the Goblins motioned his advisors to follow him. "We must stop the Fae High King from interfering at all costs." He announced before turning into the Raven.

A moment later, the flock of birds headed straight for the Goblin Castle.

--

The trio had passed through the glen, and on to where the hillside crested. Now they came into the path and saw the ruins of the crystal ballroom. Olwyn wept openly at seeing the wreckage. She reached out a hand and touched the orb. "Who could have done this," she asked mournfully.

Acacia nudged Hoggle, urging him to inform the Princess, he only swatted at her. "Tell her," the little fairy warned. "Or I will."

"Who could have so little regard for such beauty?" Olwyn asked, "That they would shatter this wonderful sphere."

"It's not what you think," warned Hoggle, feeling as if he were snitching. The ebony eyes sought his; he dropped to his knees and cried. "I didn't want to give her that peach… he made me…" the tale began to pour out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "He made me follow her, made me trick her and lead her astray… but the more I did, the more I grew to care for her… he … he ordered me to give her the peach…called it a present… I told him I didn't want to do nothing to hurt her…" the dwarf wailed. "He said if I didn't give her his present he'd dip me into the bog of stench before I knew what was happening… and he would too…Jareth's mean… and sneaky and…." He saw the horrified look on the face of the little Fairy on his shoulder, but it was too late. "He's jealous that she kissed me, and not him!"

Acacia covered her face with one hand, "Moron," she muttered. There was a prolonged silence, and then a sound that the Fairy Queen had not expected. Olwyn was laughing, side splitting, roll down on the ground laughing. Fingers parted, and the little Queen stared at the taller Fae. Fearing the Princess had lost it, she kicked Hoggle in the ear. "Moron!" she repeated.

Hoggle grabbed at his pained ear, "What are you yapping about… you told me to tell her!"

"I meant to tell her who ruined the ballroom," Acacia screeched. "Not to tell her about the peach, she didn't need to know about the peach…she could have figured it out herself!"

"How," shrugged the dwarf, "She don't know any of the dramatis personae."

Acacia smacked her face with her hand once more, "Moron, don't you know who she is?"

Hoggle looked at the woman near tears she was laughing so hard, "No… who is she…"

Pulling his ear hair so he'd look her way, the Fairy Queen pointed in the direction of the amused woman in the fowler's netting. "That's Jareth's mother!"

Hoggle's eyes rolled up into his head before he fainted.

Concerned for his wellbeing, Olwyn moved to go to the dwarf, but a sound from within the shattered skin of the once great ballroom caught her off guard. It was a voice, a wonderful voice singing from its soul. In a flash of light she saw, _**a couple danced**_ _**down the descending curved staircase, pausing in rhythm on each tier of the decent. Her hand on his shoulder, his arm encircling her waist, as he sang the words of his soul.**_ "Jareth," she whispered, as her hand reached up to steady herself. In that instant, the iridescence returned to the skin of the ballroom, and the music began to play once more. Olwyn stepped back as chards and sheet of crystal flew back into place, and the magnificent sphere rose once more into the night sky. Hoggle opened his eyes, saw the orb rise and promptly fainted once more.

Something on the wind warned her, Olwyn moved to the dwarf and began to pat his face repeatedly. "We must hurry," she urged him to waken. "King Jareth is in grave danger!"

Hoggle pulled back violently from the woman. "You can't expect me to save him!" he bellowed.

"Then save Sarah," commanded the woman as she stood up. "Or you won't have a friend left in the world…" She turned toward the castle. "Acacia I am in need of your help," she called back over her shoulder. "If the dwarf is too fearful or too proud to come, leave him."

Queen Acacia glared at Hoggle. "Get up you lump of dirt! There's work to be done." On iridescent wings the little fairy flittered toward the Princess. Hoggle grumbled, dusted himself off and trundled down the path following the Fae women.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15.**

Arriving on a windswept hillside, covered in vines and ivy and fragrant grasses, Puck spun about in astonishment. "Bless my soul," he muttered observing the new thriving life in the foliage. He cast a glance to the storm looming over the castle in the distance. "I see I'm not the only player returned to the scene of the crime… this should prove… amusing."

Looking then at his garments, the Hob-goblin uttered a grim oath, "This will never do," he took a long breath, hooding his eyes with lids and thick lashes, he whispered the incantation once more. "_**Anáil dragan uisce orth bhais betha, do cheol déanta.**_" Being born of the dragon's breath, Puck didn't fight the power of the charm. He gave himself over to it, and accepted the changes necessary to return to Goblin Soils. In the twinkling of starlight, quick as a whirlwind the opulent lavish court dress that was fashionable on Avalon melted away. Once more Puck was covered by Goblin Armor and the dark doeskin breeches that were preferred by the Goblin Race. He smiled as he gazed upon the garments of his former life, pleased at the feel of them.

Puck knew there was no time to find a pond and admire his renewed Goblin countenance. If he knew Oberon, and he did, the Fae High King would leave nothing to chance. He would make alliances with the Court of the UnSeelie to bring down the reign of Jareth. Tugging at the cuffs of his fine kidd leather gloves, the Hob-goblin set down the path.

--

Oberon, with the most important Lords of the Seelie Court awaited the arrival of the emissary of the UnSeelie Court. Seated upon his throne, careful to keep his features schooled, the High King now had the backing of the entire Seelie Court. It was not going to be hard to convince the UnSeelie it was in their best interest to side with them against the Labyrinth King. Few if any UnSeelie were known be fond of or even partial to Jareth. He had made foes on both sides of the Seelie Courts.

A trumpet sounded, the great doors of the great hall opened and the procession of the Emissary of the UnSeelie began. Striding toward the dais upon which the throne of the High King came a handsomely outfitted Fae Lord. He was everything that a Fae should be, tall, lean, well garmented, and completely at ease within himself. Rogan wore a confident expression, proudly he moved until he was before the High King. Bowing to the monarch of the Fae Realms he acknowledged Oberon's higher rank. "My Lord," he greeted the High King politely. "I am here as you requested."

"Lord Rogan," Oberon returned the polite greeting. "We are appreciative of your prompt answer to the summons, and welcome you to Avalon. This is not your first visit here, and I'm sure you understand the urgency."

Ignoring the other Fae in the great hall, Rogan placed one foot on the step of the dais and leaned forward. "WE understand that the Goblin King has tampered with time," Rogan said coldly. "Other than that," he shrugged.

"I regret to inform you that Jareth, the Goblin King has done more than merely tampered with time." Oberon kept the tone banal, "This time the Goblin King has broken _**The Escheat**_," it was all the High King could do not to stand up and cheer.

Removing the foot from the stair, Rogan stood erect; his face mirrored his serious thoughts, "Are you certain?"

"Indeed," Oberon hooded his eyes with heavy lids. "Tampering with time is the least of his offenses, this time."

"_**The Escheat**_," Rogan muttered. "What can that fool be thinking?"

"One does not know what goes on in the mind of the Goblin King," Oberon lamented. "Nor does one try to comprehend." He stood up. "The Seelie Court will take action, we ask the UnSeelie to join with us."

"Of course," Rogan said solemnly. "The two courts will act as one, under your directive, High King." His eyes, the deep gray that was common among the males of the Fae Race, were filled with sorrowfulness and regret. "_**The Escheat**_," he said in a deep and resounding tone, "Is the glue that holds us together. We of the UnSeelie will stand by whatever judgment you've made."

Satisfied that he had what he needed Oberon stood up, "Lord Rogan, I request that you come with us to the Goblin Kingdom of the Labyrinth as the representative of the UnSeelie Courts."

Bowing deeply Rogan accepted the profoundly somber duty, "Of course."

Periwinkle, armed with the scrolls that contained not only the _**Escheat**_, but also the ones that contained the charges against Jareth, moved slowly down the dais at the side of his King. Being a man of the Law, Periwinkle lived and breathed every word of the _**Escheat**_. He didn't like over confidence, it was something that could trip you up. He had learned long ago that if you counted your chickens before they hatched, you could come up short. Something in this ego driven prosecution irked him. He would have liked more time to study the situation before acting upon the facts as they were known. He had advised the High King to allow him time, but had been not only denied he had been scolded by the High King. Being a man who liked things well planned out and formulated, Periwinkle detested being rushed even if it were by the High King.

Oberon looking grave and somber in his stately robes of office motioned both Rogan and Periwinkle to follow him. Tatiana witnessed the three head for the chamber of portals. She would have liked to cry out, to stomp a foot and put an end to Oberon's foolish obsessions. However the expression in the High King's eyes told her even from a distance that he was in no mood to be~ finding the middle ground. He had found what he thought to be a loophole and he intended upon using it. He was going to be rid of Jareth, and that was all that mattered to the High King. Once he dethroned the lad, Tatiana was sure he had no plans on with to do with him.

Moving like a whirlwind, the High Queen swiftly went to the tower. The guards looked at her with suspicious eyes. "Out of my way fools," she ordered harshly when one stepped in her path. "Know you not who I am?"

"The High King has sent us orders, my Lady Queen," the captain of the guard answered in just as harsh a tone. "Your Lord is well aware of your frequent visits to his sister, and has ordered that you not interfere."

Jaw dropping at such insolence, the High Queen staggered back a step. "He forbids me entry to his sister?"

"He does," affirmed the Captain.

"Outrageous," she spat. "Move aside," she ordered again.

The guards took a defensive stance and crossed lances before her. "No," they said in unison.

From where she stood she could see the open door of the tower chamber, and the occupant seated doing needlework. Tatiana could not remember a time when the chamber door was left so open. It was as if Oberon was looking for an excuse to execute a death sentence on his sister. Were the lady within to try to leave, no doubt these guards had been given an order to stop her at all costs. About to protest, the High Queen's words froze as she watched the figure within the chamber stand and move to the other side of the room, passing the great standing mirror. Knowing the guards were facing her and not the occupant she lowered her eyes. "I bow to my husband's will," she said drawing back from the entry. "I will not visit the Lady of the Tower." Turning she forced herself to descend the winding stairs of the tower at an unhurried leisurely pace.

Once she was outside the tower, Tatiana leaned on the stones of the prison. "Sweet Danu, where is Olwyn," she whispered. "How did she make her escape?" long fingers went to her lips as she walked away from the tower. "When did you leave us," wondered the confused Queen. She looked up at the endless night, and the stilled time. "Sweet Danu, protect my sweet sister from harm." She bit at her lower lip and worried about the young Fae Princess, and fretted over where she could have gone. Feeling the fabric of magic open, Tatiana knew that Oberon and his Court companions were on their way to the Land of the Goblin Labyrinth. "Sweet Danu, save us all…"

--

Puck looked at the magnificent fountain, water shooting up into the air, and playing merrily as it made its decent. He remembered its creation and the high spirits of the two who had chased each other round its foundation. When last he was here, the fountain had fallen on hard times, the waters stagnate and the fountain itself stilled. He was overjoyed to see it once more restored.

The beautiful plantings that graced the grounds and those that draped upon the walls of greeted the Hob-goblin. Puck recognized many of the rare and exotic blooms, but more important he noticed the shamrocks that had now sprung up. "Olwyn," he mused, "Merry Meet!" One hand moved to touch the wide open gate, a sense of coming home flooded his being. He leaned for a moment against the stones and patted his hand to the heavy wood. "Blessed be," he whispered.

Something on the wind terminated his moment of reminesance, turning serious he looked at the windswept hillside; it was the main portal for entry into the lands of the Labyrinth. All guests were forced to enter there, and there were no exceptions save for the wished away children who were taken straight to the castle. Hunkering over slightly, narrowing his ebony eyes, Puck uttered one word, "Oberon." Instinct told him the High King was about to appear, and not wanting to be his welcoming wagon, the Hob-goblin spun and entered the gate of the Labyrinth. He looked down; in the light of the moon he could see the shamrocks and followed their path.

--

Oberon and his two companions stood on the hillside. For a moment the High King seemed perplexed, and ill at ease. Periwinkle noted the consternation on his king's features. Oberon took the lead, and moved down the hillside, ignoring the lush growth that now covered what had been barren hills.

--

Jareth waited impatiently as Sarah stumbled behind him. "Do hasten," he commanded callously. "Time is a wasting," he quipped as she drew near.

Sarah looked at the drawbridge, it was not lowered. "We didn't pass the junkyard," she murmured, her voice drowsy.

"That's the back route," Jareth said with disdain and disapproval. "You don't expect me to have to sneak into my own castle do you?" He rang a bell and a goblin head popped out of a little guard house. "Lower the bridge," he instructed. "My guest and I would enter."

"Sure," nodded the goblin happily, taking a moment to hesitate and look at the King's guest. "Wait," he gasped. "You're not bringing her in here are you?" the goblin looked at Sarah with a mixture of condemnation and dislike.

Sarah didn't think she knew the little creature and hissed at him. "What are you looking at?"

Ignoring her, the goblin looked at his King, "We're still cleaning up after her last visit."

Nodding and shrugging Jareth lamented, "I know, however she and I have unfinished business of our own…" He waved at the drawbridge. "If you would."

"Of course," the goblin said before giving one last grim look at Sarah.

The bridge lowered on heavy chains, Sarah wanted to lean on something, rest and forget this foolishness. "What's he got against me," she complained bitterly to Jareth, her words slurring slightly with her fatigue.

Taking the first steps on the lowered bridge, Jareth spun to glare at the girl. "Have you no idea?"

Legs like rubber gone soft, head pounding and eyes heavy the girl scowled at the king. "Not one."

"You and your assault on the village left a great deal of carnage behind," he condemned grimly.

Waving a hand at him as if to make his words insignificant, Sarah scoffed; "No one got killed…"

"You've no remorse for the damages you inflicted?" He stared at her as if he never knew her.

"What damages," she staggered toward him, "From what I saw, it was an improvement." The goblin in the little guard house hissed at her and she hissed back. "You stay out of this or I'll rearrange your face…"

While her back was turned, Jareth smirked knowing she was now going on raw nerve and that would not last long. He grabbed the back of her collar, yanked her back and pulled her across the draw bridge. "Come come Sarah," he growled mysteriously pleasant suddenly. "We've yet to enter the castle… there is still a short distance to go."

--

Oberon's frown and furrows of his brow deepened. Only hours ago when he had argued with his spies at the gate this area had been an arid wasteland. Yet now the area of the outer garden of the gateway had burst into life. He wondered what magic it was that Bran could have used. Seeing the gate flung open wide he pondered if there could be a runner within. How could there be, after all Jareth has suspended time and no summons could come.

Rogan had never been to the gate of the Labyrinth, so he was not shocked. However Periwinkle had been, on more than one occasion he had accompanied the High King when on a mission to rebuke the Goblin King on some infraction. His blue eyes were startled at the appearance of the gateway and the sparkling fountain and the lush growth. Voicing it was however something he was not prepared to do.

"We go in," growled the High King.

"Can we not transport to the Castle without meandering," questioned the UnSeelie Lord.

"No," Periwinkle stated. "Only Jareth can transport in and out of the Labyrinth at will."

"Damned inconvenient," muttered the UnSeelie as he followed the High King and the Judge into the walls.

--

Jareth had pulled Sarah most of the way through the village, or what of it lay between the drawbridge and the main entry of the castle. "Welcome to my castle," he said as he shoved up the few steps to the high and heavy oaken doors.

Sarah stumbled and lay on the steps, "I've been here before," she reminded him.

"Sneaking in the back door, like a thief," Jareth condemned. "This time we shall use the front door." Reaching down he pulled her up by her arm roughly. "It's not far now Sarah."

Forgetting her battle with him for a moment, she leaned against him. "I can't…"

"You can," he growled, "And you must." He pulled her forcefully and violently up the remaining steps as the doors of the Goblin Palace opened to greet its King. "Don't worry, Sarah… it won't hurt… much." He pulled her into the vestibule just as the doors shut tight.

--

The flock landed as the doors shut with a bolting sound. Crom looked at Bran. "Is this part of your plan?"

"It is what it is," Bran said casually.

Llyr-Bel looked at the storm overhead, "Will it break?"

Aericura looked up also and seemed to be fascinated by the patterns of lightning in the dark sky. Bran didn't bother to look, "Perhaps," he mused.

Llyr-Bel was the first to hear movement and turned toward it. "Someone comes," he alerted the others. Swiftly they moved to surround their lord.

Out of the darkness emerged a lone figure, a man in dark armor, eyes that were black as ebony and wild as nature itself. His long fair hair was tied back with leather cording. His face was long, lean and intelligent. He moved with assurance and poise as he confidently moved toward the Lord of Darkness. He knelt in supplication to the High King of Darkness. "Oberon is on his way," he said hanging his head in shame.

"You dare show your face before the High King," demanded Llyr-Bel angrily.

Aericura placed a hand on his blade, "What trickery is this," he growled, "Come you to do more harm?"

Crom noted that Bran was calm and seemed as if he were expecting the dishonored figure before them. "How do you know," he asked sensibly. "That Oberon comes?"

Puck looked up, his eyes on the person of the High King. "Forgive me, my Lord." He asked quietly. "In my desire to fulfill the duty you'd placed upon my shoulders… I have made mistakes."

"Speak," Bran crossed his arms, amused and interested in the request for forgiveness.

"In an effort to be accommodating," Puck sighed. "I have obligingly worked against the best interests of the Goblin Race… and for this…" he heard the hissing of the others and changed his tactic. "I did as you bid, engraciating myself to the Fae High King in an effort to keep an eye on your interests. Of late I've discovered that we have a sympathetic ear at the Fae Court."

Bran motioned for Puck to rise; much to the chagrin of Llyr-Bel who spoke out violently against Puck. "You cannot believe a word this one says, my Lord." He glared at Puck with hatred. "He has betrayed you and our race on more than one occasion.

"He acted upon my orders," countered Bran, and motioned Puck forward. "Continue," he urged.

"As you suspected when the Lady did not return, she was incarcerated by her irate brother. He locked her within a tower, guarded and he believed incapable of escape." Puck leaned toward his King. "You having elevated her son to a King's throne here in the Goblin Realms have near driven him mad with jealousy." Amusement now played in Puck's eyes. "I remained at court as you wished, and acted as a henchmen and flunky to the King…. Not a position I would recommend. Until this endless night," he looked up at the storm overhead. "This night such goings on… plots and subplots… Oberon thinking he's found a means by which to dispose of Jareth and in some measure even take control of Goblin Lands."

"And the sympathetic ear," Questioned Bran evenly.

"The High Queen," Puck sighed. "She bid me walk with her, and gave me warning that Oberon had what he thought was his trump card against Jareth."

"Indeed," Bran pursed his generous lips. "And that would be?"

"_**The Escheat**_," Puck's lips curled.

"Well done," Bran patted the back of the outcast.

"You believe him," Aericura gasped with anger. "He's a liar, and a prankster, and not to be trusted."

"Of course I believe him," Bran countered coolly. "Puck has never lied to me with good reason." He looked at the other Lords before he gave a sharp order to the outcast. "Show them."

Puck reached up, unfastened his armor breastplate, and drew aside the dark colored tunic underneath revealing his chest and the crest that was branded above his heart. Crom spoke for all of the companions of the Dark High King. "He wears your mark."

"Indeed he does," Bran motioned Puck to cover up once more. "He has been and always will be mine, and mine alone…" he looked at the Hob-goblin. "What you had to do, to complete your service to me is forgiven."

"My Lord," Puck said as if he'd remembered a thought. "You should know, Oberon is not the only Fae who comes…"

"I know," assured the Goblin High King. "I'm aware of the shift in the~ air."

"I had thought I would be too late to warn you," Puck whispered urgently. "Or that I would at least encounter…"

Bran raised a hand, hushing the words, "All will be revealed in good time," he cautioned. "We've guests," he looked at the trio striding into the courtyard of the Goblin Palace. "Hello Oberon, what brings you out again tonight?"

Angry at finding Bran in the courtyard instead of Jareth, Oberon raged. "Where is the Goblin King?"

"Which one?" Bran asked with a quirky smile.

"The one who is about to lose his throne," boasted Oberon. "Jareth, cur son of my sister."

"He's indisposed," Bran tormented Oberon with a mocking smile. "I should think he will be for some time to come." He stood proudly surrounded by his companions and Puck, who stood with them unnoticed by the Fae High King.

"I suggest you prevent him from perverting things more than they are," demanded Oberon. "We have brought serious charges against this so called king…and they must be answered now, without delay."

Shaking his head and tucking his tongue into his cheek, Bran mimicked regret. "I'm afraid we can not disturb Jareth just now. Perhaps if you return in a day or two…"

"I demand that you bring him forth, now," Oberon roared.

"No," Bran said quite calmly. "I don't think so."

Rogan and Periwinkle both looked uncomfortable; they noticed that the courtyard had been filling with goblins of every description and size. Something Oberon had failed to notice, since starting his demands. "This is an outrage," Oberon bellowed.

"Something of which you are very familiar," a female voice spoke with dignity. "Outrage is one of your specialties, is it not?" Regally Olwyn stood at the entry of the courtyard. Her fowler's netting now adorned with blossoms of exotic blooms, and laces of Spanish moss. At her side an attendant in a royal gardener's uniform, upon the shoulder of which stood a miniature Fae, draped in the finest milkweed gown encrusted with dew drops interlaced with slivery moonbeam threads and starlight. On the head of the tiny Fae, intertwined with her luxurious pale blonde strands of long and curling hair, was a perfect sliver circlet crown.

The Lords of the Dark realm bowed to the presence of her serene highness. "My Lady," each said as she strode past them in perfect composure. Each of the Dark Lords looked at the woman with respect and adoration.

"Gentlemen," she greeted the court of the Dark Lords respectfully as she proceeded until she too was on the steps of the palace.

Oberon narrowed his gaze, hate in his eyes. "Olwyn," he cursed. Upon seeing her warm greeting by the Lords of Darkness, he raged. "Which of these is the cur who sullied you?" His hand went for his blade, but was stayed by the hand of Periwinkle warning him not to act rashly.

Now protected by the Lords of Darkness and standing one step lower than the High King Olwyn spoke; "What right have you to be here, Fae King? This is Goblin territory."

"What right have you," he countered.

"The right of a mother," she stated in a voice that booked no argument. "Rights you've denied me from the birth of my son…Jareth, the Goblin King." Overhead, above the palace the storm that was looming delivered a flash of lightning. Thunder clapped so loudly it ratted the windows in their frames within the walls of the building, as if to underscore her words.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16. **

***&***

**Autrhor's warning….**

**Okay you bunch of rowdy perverted Fans of Paisley Smut… (I've recently learned that I've been made terminology by some.) Here's the chapter you've all been chomping at the bit for… Herein is contained SEX.. That's right SEX… not exactly consensual, but not rape either… Let's just say you're getting what you've been pestering me for….**

**&*&**

Through the halls of the palace Jareth marched, dragging the near dead weight of the mortal girl. Her feet moved like lead weights, while he kept her moving deeper and deeper within the winding walls of his fortress home. "What's the matter," he harassed as he pushed her onward.

"Stop," she begged fearing she was about to blackout. "I can't go on… I can't."

Pausing he let her lean on a wall, "We are here," he whispered in here ear.

Sarah panted and propped herself on the wall for support. "Where," she raised her head to look and gasped as she saw the entry to the room of endless stairs and passages. "No," she cried out ready to try and bolt away from the opening. "I won't go in there, not again."

Blocking her from escaping, Jareth's hands gripped her forearms. "You don't have to if you don't want to…" he teased, "Poor Sarah, not strong enough to complete a simple journey."

"Nothing is simple with you," she struggled weakly in his grip. "You're up to no good... It's a trick." She whimpered.

Her struggles were weaker than before, and he crooned in her ear. "Surrender, and end this…"

"No," she wailed.

"You don't have to go in there," he teased mockingly. "You can send someone else in your stead."

Eyes widened in fear, in her fevered and over wrought mind she could hear Toby's cries from earlier, and she broke free of the hands that were holding her back. "Toby, I'm coming," she yelled as she flung herself into the portal entry of the upside down and topsy turvy room. Too late she realized she'd been tricked, and she stumbled down a sting of stairs.

Jareth stood at the top looking down, "Whose world is turned upside down now, you precious thing?"

Having landed none too gracefully, Sarah's face whipped to the sound and glared red eyes at her antagonist. "Bastard," she shouted at him. "You tricked me!"

"Not so," he said honestly as he crouched down like a cat ready to pounce upon a spied rat. "I only said you could choose someone else to enter here for you… it was your own mind that filled in the blanks and caused you to thrust yourself in."

"I hate you!" she screamed.

"Do you," he asked with a cold expression. "Indeed."

She refused to give outlet to the tears that stung her eyes. "I beat you once, Goblin King…"

"How so," he asked throatily.

"I won back the child I so carelessly wished away," she staggered to her feet, and looked about for an exit.

He laughed scoffing at her, "So you believe?"

Sarah paused, there was no exit that she could run to, he had tricked her and she was trapped within the confines of the room that she was certain was in constant movement once one entered. It was designed to confuse and confound. "Damn it," she muttered ignoring his edgy stance and the way he watched her movement. "Which way is up, and which way is out?"

"Which way is down," he countered in a sinister purr. "And which way is in?"

Sarah clapped hands over her ears, trying to block his voice. "Think Sarah, think…" she demanded of herself. Her frayed nerves operated against her, and she imagined the King coming at her from one location while he watched her from above. Shifting to one side she stumbled toward another set of downward stairs. Above, below, around, no longer could she distinguish. The vast chamber with so many levels at odd angles had confused her yet again.

Staircases, balconies, archways, and the odd window here and there. Everything was topsy turvy, with the planes reversing, receding corners jutting out and rising steps that inverted suddenly. Sarah was lost in the entangled planes of a reality that could not exist. The law of gravity had been dismissed, and replaced by a dimension of nonsense. She wailed as she tripped on a step. She felt sick, dizzy and lost. "I can't," she moaned.

From where he was perched in the crouch on the upper platform Jareth watched with wicked glee. "Can't what Sarah," he taunted knowing she could no longer see clearly. "Can't win?"

Sarah edged back, placing a wall to her back telling herself it was for focus, not merely to support her sagging weight. Moving slowly, careful of each step she edged along the platform she was standing on. One step at a time, praying not to falter, as one false step could topple her over the precipice into oblivion. Something she was certain the Goblin King hoping for. Tears no longer could be held back. The voice above her, if there was an above her halted her progress.

"Your eyes don't look so cruel now," the voice declared as thunder from the storm looming over head crashed and boomed shaking the walls.

Defiantly she turned to look where she thought the sound was coming from. Nothing was there, except a dark shape that scurried along into a shadow. Sarah remembered other shapes doing likewise in the nursery. "You can't scare me!" she bellowed.

"Liar," he accused boldly in retaliation.

Wheeling about, mouth open and hands tightly clenched into balled fists, Sarah looked about for him. Thunder boomed, a blast of air from the storm seemed to invade the chamber of stairs. On the currant of wind the Owl on silent wings descended to the level where the girl was trapped. Too tired to wrap her arms about her face, the girl thought of screaming, but her voice faltered when she opened her mouth. The wind blew her hair, as the wings of the owl drew into its body. The prolonged strike of lightning cast a shadow from the floor to the wall beside her.

Silhouetted in the flashes was the man clad in Goblin Armor. Gone was the cloak that had billowed on the stormy air. His shoulder length hair fluttered gently down as he materialized fully. The lightning showed the outline of his face, he was not smiling. However he was not frowning either. "Sarah, I warned you… you're no match for me," he taunted as he moved toward her.

"Cheat," she accused, "You can't even play fair…."

The grimness in his expression gave way to a bit of mockery. "If you don't like the game, don't play." He tormented as he swaggered her way. "You should have stayed in your room, with your costumes and your toys," he mocked.

"I would have if you'd minded your own business," she spat at him.

Snickering at her statement, he reminded her. "I was," his voice was jubilant with his perceived victory over her. "So are you ready to admit you can't do it, that you can't win… that you're nothing more than another human failure? Just another spoiled brat who can't have what she wants…"

Sarah saw red, and lashed out at him, her hand came into contact with his face. She was as surprised as he. Fury etched his face; flames replaced his eyes as he roared. Pushed beyond her limits, forgetting about manners and rights and wrongs, Sarah went to claw the attacking creature. It took real effort on Jareth's part not to fall victim to the nails of the she creature that was aggressively combating him. Wrangling and struggling against being constricted, they danced over the platform toward the edge and then switching directions headed toward an opening. The struggle continued until Jareth backed her up into what was an archway of one level that had no platform above it, opening into an abyss. She struck out at him once more, the blow being rebuffed by his arm.

"Strike again, and by God woman I will cuff you!" he roared.

"You wouldn't dare," she retorted defiantly, feeling the edge of the arch side up under her derrière. Gasping and grasping for the edge with one hand, the other hand held captive by the Goblin King, she looked up at him with hooded eyes.

"Try me," he seethed as he grabbed her leg before she could kick him. For one moment he actually considered toppling her into the abyss. The shock in her eyes as he had grabbed her leg halted him. Her mouth had dropped open, just as it had when she'd been in the crystal ballroom. Changing his mind, and pulling her toward him, unbalancing the delicate equilibrium which kept her perched on the edge of the arch, Jareth moved forward to meet her. Thunder roared and lightning flashed violently. The storm within the castle was equal to the storm above and without.

--

Oberon had never considered Olwyn much more than a nuisance, just another burden placed on him. Never once had he thought her capable of defying him, and certainly not publicly. "You dare speak of the shame you brought upon us? The devil spawn you bore?"

Protected by the ring of Dark Lords, Olwyn voiced the contempt she'd harbored for years. "Who has more right to speak of him than his mother, a mother who you locked away in a tower and treated like a prisoner!"

"For your own good," Oberon protested as if he had done something honorable.

"Liar," Olwyn glared at him. A hand with fingers like wiggling spiders began to walk up her back and she shivered under the intimate touch.

Oberon, unaware of the reclamation taking place, struck out a hand toward his sister. He was blocked not only by the Dark Lords who were standing on steps lower than hers, but also by the Dark Lord he'd not taken notice of. "You," he roared in disbelieve, eyes widening.

"You will not touch the Lady Olwyn," Puck had moved swiftly between brother and sister, and Oberon's hand had grazed his armor. "By the Gods, you will not!"

Oberon eyed Puck with abhorrence, "You betray me," he accused.

"That would only be possible if I'd had any allegiance to you, High King." Puck stood with his arms outstretched protecting the person of the High King's sister, "Which I don't."

The spidery fingers moved up the slender back covered in Fowler's netting. Coming to rest delicately but possessively on the shoulders of the trembling Fae woman, "Welcome home," Bran said as he leaned to speak in the ear of the woman within his grasp. His voice was a whisper for her ears alone. "Beloved."

Demurely Olwyn turned her head to face him. "Bran…" her lips trembled as she spoke his name.

Witnessing the moment, Oberon staggered back a step. "You," he asked staring at the pair behind the person he had once considered his personal henchman. "You?"

Bran smirked over the shoulder of the Fae Princess. Oberon roared as lightning flashed in the endless night sky.

--

The startled expression and change of Sarah's frame of mind were not lost on Jareth. His heat met and mashed into hers, confusing and perplexing Sarah. "What are you doing," she gasped forgetting the empty space behind her.

Grappling, and pulling her into his embrace, Jareth struggled with her. His mouth suddenly seeking hers, not content until he was forcing her to endure his kiss. Pushed beyond his own limits, forgetting his station, and rank, Jareth slated his mouth over hers demanding response. "Surrender," he demanded as his jaw worked violently over hers.

"No," she rasped, struggling for breath.

Holding her in talon like grips, he forced her mouth open with his jaw. His tongue moved into the warm moist recesses of hers, tasting, teasing and torturing her. "Let me rule you," he commanded harshly.

Strangling on the tongue that was plunging in and out of her mouth, down her throat, over the roof of her mouth, she gagged out. "No!"

The cry that was next uttered came as a surprise to both. From a depth he had not known he owned, Jareth shuddered against her. "Love me…." His mouth softened, the kiss deepened, no longer punishing, as he drew her closer. It was a long moment before he was aware that somewhere, sometime her struggles had ceased and she was holding her breath. Jareth pulled back, worried he had killed her, but found her staring at him.

Sarah could not breathe, think or speak. Shock was on her face, had he lost his mind? She opened her mouth to rebuke him and refuse to even consider the suggestion. No sound issued forward, horrified she felt her hands shoot forward grasping his collar, and pulling him forward to her own hungry lips. Only when his lips were on hers did she feel sound come from her throat. It was a strange inhuman sound, banal and animalistic. Every fiber of her being seemed to be responding to the equally hungry man.

Jareth wrenched back, looking at her, aware that something had changed. "Love me," he said again deeper, demanding an answer.

Sarah's lips trembled; "I shouldn't…" her resistance was breaking.

Hands that had been demanding gentled as he touched her face. "Love me…" he repeated kissing her softly. "Love me…" Her soft young mouth opened under his, inviting his entry. This time it was welcomed. His hands moved down, embracing, and then possessively moving over her. Thunder shattered the quite, and he lifted his head once more. "Love me," He crooned.

"Yes," she answered. It was not a demand, not a command; it was a simple statement that required a truthful answer.

Lifting her off the ledge of the arch, Jareth moved swiftly into one of other arches knowing it would not put him into another level of the puzzling room. His mouth hungrily worked over hers as she tried to ask where he was taking her. He kept her from speaking, form thinking, only responding to the need that burned within them both, building like the violent storm outside the castle. The next chamber he entered was not lit, but he knew where he was. Where he'd brought her, and he crossed into its depths with ease.

Gently, he placed her on a surface, wide, high and soft, covered in satin and silk. He lowered himself to cover her, his lips seeking hers, as his hands took possession of her body. "Love me," he repeated over and over. Knowing the girl was dizzy and tried and innocent, he gave her no time to think. His need was great, and she was trembling like a flower. "Love me…"

Gazing into the face that had welcomed her to the ballroom, Sarah reached out to touch him. "I'm dreaming," she whispered.

"Then pray thee my love, never waken," he answered as he kissed her eyelids. "Love me, Sarah… love me." Effortlessly he tugged her poet's shirt aside, plying the hidden skin with kisses that warmed and thrilled her. "Love me, Sarah." He breathed.

No longer able to think straight Sarah followed her body's lead. Arching into his embrace, moaning softly as his mouth left a trail of kisses from her collar down. When he moved the fabric that separated him from her breast she mewled weakly. His tongue teased the rising peak that was hardening. Once it had risen and hardened he drew it between his lips, suckling as he ran his hand down her side to where her bottom rounded. Sarah looked into his eyes as he now loomed over her.

"Love me," he said quietly, awaiting her answer.

"Yes," her voice whispered timidly, unsure of herself and this strange situation. His mouth took hers again as he moved to position himself between her thighs. "Release time," she pleaded.

"In a moment," he promised, this time there was no haughty expression. Only a sincere longing that was soon to be fulfilled. "A moment," he repeated, as he felt her heat meet his. "One moment…"

Sarah's eyes widened as she felt their garments melt like spring snow. His skin touched hers, warming her in places she'd never been touched. "Jareth," she said his name shakily. "Wait… I'm not ready…"

Tenderly he soothed her, but he didn't part from her. "You're ready," he assured her soothingly. 'Ready or not, we are here,' he thought to himself. 'I'll be damned if I let you slip from me again.' He moved against her, drawing a mewled and gasp. "Love me," he breathed in her ear. Rising up on his elbows he studied her face, wanting to watch as she became his. "Open to me," he said as he moved with force into her. His mouth came down on hers, capturing the one pained cry. He sank into her, deeply, filling her completely. He pulled back his head, looked at her, saw awareness, before he murmured to her. "I shall be your first, and your last… as you shall be my only." He thrust into her forcefully, breaking the barrier that was her gift. "Love me, my Sarah." He lowered his face into her neck. "Love me, my precious thing."

The girl shuddered, her heart quickening as he began to push in and out of her with a rhythm that frightened and yet delighted her. She felt wickedly delicious, and sinfully wanton. His body was slamming into hers and she found herself crying out, not in pain, but in a hot desire. Her body was coming to life as he moved deeper and deeper into her. She arched to meet his thrusts, wanting to feel every last inch of him. He was thick, hard, and filled her unlike anything she'd ever dreamed of. This was unlike anything she'd ever imagined. It was hot, passionate and she wanted more. Her arms slid over his shoulders, "More," she begged. "More."

"With pleasure," he growled in her ear as he hammered into her. It was banal, it was base, it was hedonistic, and he had never before felt so complete. She was as hungry as he, and as demanding. He knew he was losing his own way, he didn't care. He had her, and she wanted him. He could feel the explosion that was moments from occurring; he pulled her closer, fastening himself to her as they reached the explosive climax. "I'll never let you go," he growled into her mouth violently, "Never." He roared as they both released, his poured his seed into her, thick, hot, and abundant. He breathed heavily, gasping for air as he drained into her, collapsing on top of her when he finished. Before they both were taken by the blackness of unconsciousness, he released time. Enfolding the vessel that now held his seed, he welcomed sleep.

--

The last thunderbolt struck, and the clouds began to part. Bran looked up a wickedly knowing smile on his lips. He then addressed the Fae High King, "Whatever charges you wished to accuse my _**son**_ of are mote now."

"Not so," Oberon snapped. "Now more than ever he is guilty!"

"Of what," mused Bran as his hands closed possessively on the woman who had bore his son. "Of needed something you didn't understand oh mighty Oberon?"

"He has broken _**The Escheat**_," bellowed the Fae High King.

"What of it," Bran asked as if asking how Oberon's health was.

"He must forfeit his throne," Oberon pronounced folding his arms over his chest.

"Says who," Bran laughed.

Periwinkle advised Oberon to back down, but was ignored, "Says the law!"

"Your law," Bran sneered. "Not ours."

"Jareth is bound by _**The Escheat**_," Oberon disputed not seeing the dangers he'd placed himself and his companions in.

"If my son were a Fae citizen that would be true," Bran mused darkly. "However Jareth is a Goblin King, holding only Goblin citizenship… he's not bound by your laws." Seeing the four immortal leaders who were standing at the courtyard entry he called over to one of them. "Wouldn't you agree, Dagda?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17.**

The four Immortals stood as silent sentinels, watching with grim expressions on their majestic faces. Oberon, who had been too busy blustering, now turned to look. His expression went from aggressive to astonished, to triumphant thinking the four were here to back up his claims. "Dagda," he bowed to the Father of the Fae Race.

Periwinkle however was not so jubilant to see the old ones, the elders of the unseen world. "Sire," he placed his hand once more to Oberon's sleeve. "I beg you to drop this." Oberon only shook the hand off.

Dagda the Father figure of the Fae race, born little to no resemblance to the three Fae lords surrounded by the goblins of the Labyrinth Kingdom. He was not dressed in fine robes, now was he decked out with jewels. Rather Dagda was covered in what appeared to be a tunic of raw linen and a woolen kilt in hues that came from the raw earth. He was rough, coarse, and vulgar compared to the seemingly refined person of the Fae High King. His reddish brown hair was shaggy, wildly cut and uncombed. His beard while close cut to his chin was unkempt. His bluish-gray eyes were deep set, and earnest. His legs were bare, down to his feet that were covered by leather shods that laced up his calf. Dagda looked at his son with condescension, "I would listen to your companion were I you," his words came harshly thick with the accent of the oldest tongue.

Oberon's brow furrowed, "Father," he uttered in disbelief, "I am in the right here!"

The elder of the Fae Race gave a look of skepticism before extending his hand for his wife to come to his side. Danu placed her hand over the offered hand of her husband. "Are you my son?" she challenged. The Mother of the Fae Race was looking as grim as her husband at their child. "Or do you look to take what is not yours?"

Under the scrutiny of the Earth Mother, Oberon cowered only slightly, "Mother, surely you don't think that of me."

The Mother of the Fae Race's blue eyes widened, her face looked disappointed. "Oberon, I know you." She reminded the sullen Fae High King. "Or have you forgotten to whom you are speaking."

Bran kept his hands possessively on the shoulders of Olwyn, who was being protected by the shielding of Puck. He watched and listened with amusement as Oberon faced his sire and mother. He was watching the dark pair still at the entry gate.

Oberon seemed taken aback and affronted by Danu's accusations. "Mother, I am doing what you would have me do… defending the laws that you set in motion."

"Defending or twisting to your own purpose," Dagda asked darkly. "I for one am more inclined to believe the latter of you." He looked back over his shoulder, "Why else would we four be here?"

Oberon had not noticed the others; he was intent on making a good impression on the Father and Mother of his Race. He looked behind them, his eyes darkening as he saw who had come with Dagda and Danu. It was not attendants as he'd suspected. Standing at the entry were two beings that Oberon had preferred had not come. Standing guardedly was Arawn, Father of the Underground Races. There could be no mistaking him; his outer robes of gray were legend. Under the soft flowing fabric he was covered in armor that looked identical to that worn by Bran and the Dark Lords with the exception that instead of black his was gray. Like Bran he wore his hair long and unadorned, but his hair was not nearly as dark as Bran's. Nor were his eyes the dark blue of the Dark Lord High King, his eyes were an amazing shade of green with only a hint of blue in there centers. Only after Dagda addressed Oberon did he move forward.

Scáthach, the warrior Mother of the Dark Races stood at his side her shield at the ready, draped in a long gray pleated garment that was covered by the armor she worn on arms, shoulders and breasts. Long reddish gold hair was held in place by braided tendrils that were worked into complex elaborate webbing that held her hair from falling into her painted face with the traditional blue woad paint in intricate designs. Her black eyes looked at Oberon with an unspoken accusation. Her hand held a scepter that looked more like a broken lance or spear. Her face was grim as she and her husband move regally into the courtyard.

Arawn and Scáthach were savage and barbaric in appearance; however they bore a regality that could not be discounted or ignored. Oberon pouted glowered showing his displeasure at the appearance of the Underworld patrons. His gray eyes, looking daggers as his lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. "This does not concern them," he protested.

"Does it not," asked Arawn.

Both Periwinkle and Rogan bowed respectfully to the four beings that now seemed to have taken the control of this occasion over into their hands. Periwinkle hoped for the love of the Gods that there was a means of escaping unscathed. Rogan hung his head, not wishing to be noticed. The UnSeelie was wishing he could just shrink away, and cursed himself for having jumped at a chance to do harm to Jareth.

Arawn motioned to the castle, the courtyard and the goblins who were peering at them from every nook and cranny. "Last time I looked, this was Goblin territory."

Dagda chuckled into a raised fist, trying to cover his merriment. Danu gave him a reproving glance before looking once more at her son. "You have no dominion over Goblins, Oberon; they are creatures of the Underground, of the Underworlds." Danu stated flatly.

"AS long as this kingdom is under a Fae King," argued Oberon stubbornly. "He is bound by the laws that all Fae must adhere to." Dramatically he pointed past the beings on the steps of the castle to the castle itself. "He's the one who ignores the laws, and he must be punished." Getting up a full head of steam, Oberon bellowed.

Dagda winced, when his counterpart Arawn questioned the blustering Fae High King. "What laws do you say he~ ignored?" his pretense was one of reasonability, and he appeared willing to listen to the charges.

Had Oberon looked at the face of Bran, he would never have ventured so boldly forward. However, feeling he was the most important of the beings in the courtyard under the Four Immortals of Light and Dark, Oberon began his litany of accusations. "To start with, King Jareth is guilty of _**The Right to Dream: Mortals have a right to dream unhindered by our needs. No one is allowed to use Glamour to manipulate the creative process. Although you may inspire creativity in the mortal mind, it is forbidden to give direct instruction or to infuse a human with raw Glamour.**_" Oberon recited the law without the scroll in Periwinkles hand. "Jareth has used glamour time and again against mortals, including the one he holds pensioner right now!"

Nodding as if taking this information in, Arawn kept his features formal and solemn; "Continue," he urged.

Strutting like a peacock, Oberon went on. "_**The Right of Ignorance: Do not betray the Dreaming to Banality. Never reveal yourself to humanity.**_ Jareth revealed himself to said mortal in his… castle." Oberon didn't bother trying to look sympatric toward the man he was accusing. "There is also the matter of _**Safe Haven."**_

__Dagda gave a sideways glance to his counterpart, gauging the man's thoughts and point of view in the matter being dumped upon him. Dagda knew that Oberon was expecting all to side with him, for he was High King, and Jareth was only a Goblin King. The Father of the Fae Races felt a stab of pity for his conceited son.

Having heard the arguments from the Fae High King, Arawn turned to Bran and asked quietly. "Is this true?"

Oberon protested, "You cannot expect him to tell you the truth! He'll defend that spawn." A growl from Dagda silenced the outburst.

Standing unmoved, hands still possessively on his beloved, Bran smiled broadly, "I suppose the charges have a measure of merit," he chuckled softly. "However for there to be an indictment of said allegations Jareth would have to be a citizen of the Fae Realm."

"He is the son of a Fae Princess!" Oberon shouted to be heard, goblins and strange creatures gathering in the courtyard were now making noises.

Arawn held up a hand, and the creatures of the darkness stilled. "While it is true that the mother of Jareth, the Goblin King is a Fae, and a Princess;" he stated with dead calm. "It is also true that you never afforded him citizenship." His green eyes remained calm and free of turning the tables on Oberon for the moment. "AS to these charges," he crossed his arms over his chest. "Let us take them one at a time." He stood immobile and steadfast. "You claim in your condemnation that Jareth has used glamour, and invaded mortal territories… How else would a Goblin King move among the mortals to collect the unwanted?"

Oberon, unmoved scoffed. "Were it not for him, no child would be taken from its home."

Arawn raised a brow at the claim. "There were Goblins before Jareth, Oberon." He reminded him with a gentle scold. "Bran was at one time the Labrinith's King." He continued. "The charge of right to ignorance is also not applicable to a Goblin King; after all it is the mortals who call upon us."

"You consider yourself Goblin," Oberon protested.

"Of course, just as you consider yourself to be Fae; I am the father of the creatures of the darkness, there for I am what they are." Arawn answered calmly, with more patience than Oberon had ever shown. "And the right to Save Haven," he tucked his tongue into his cheek. "Who gives saver haven than goblins?"

The Fae High King glared, and spat, "You're not going to do anything about Jareth!"

"There is nothing to do," Arawn stated. "Jareth is the Goblin King."

Turning to Dagda and Danu, Oberon implored. "Do something!" The Mother and Father of the Fae Race pursed their lips and refused. Oberon shook his head in anger at them, "I don't know why I should expect you to act. You tie my hands, but do nothing to deliver justice…" he snapped his fingers toward Olwyn, "Come sister, we are going home."

"Home," questioned the young woman. "Avalon is not and never was my home."

Bran slid his hands down over her, enfolding her in a loving embrace. "She is more than welcome to stay with us; where she belongs."

"She belongs among her own kind," argued Oberon. "She belongs on Avalon."

"Among my own kind," Olwyn's voice shrilled. "When have I been among my own kind? For centuries you've had me locked within a tower in your palace. I've been allowed no visitors save for you or your wife… and I have seen far more of her than you… brother." The accusations poured like a river out of the woman. "You took my baby from my arms, refused to allow me to even nurse him… you didn't accept him as family… you fostered him out to Fae who treated him like a burden to be bared… Never once did you treat me or my son as family." She looked down at Hoggle, "You exiled creatures who were not up to your standard of beauty… sent them here to the Labyrinth making it your private gulag. Demanding of the inmates a loyalty to you when you don't deserve or have authority to make such demands."

Oberon felt his parent's stares but ignored them. "What I did, sister mine, I did for your own good."

"Was it for Queen Acacia's own good you stripped her of her arrayments? Was it for her own good you charged Hoggle to stalk and murder the swarm?" Olwyn demanded, stronger than ever, and supported by the Flock of Dark Lords, now with Puck as her own shield. Oberon glared back. "You ordered him to kill Fairies!"

"That abomination is not a Fairy, not a real Fairy!" Oberon argued. "It's nothing more than a goblin facsimile. It is a corruption of what real Fae are."

Queen Acacia stared at Oberon, "I beg your pardon!" she snapped. "I'm just as Fae as you," She wagged a finger at the High King, "Maybe more!"

Bran smiled down at the pretty little creature that'd made her life within the boundaries of the Labyrinth lands. "I do believe that if anyone has broken faith with your precious _**Escheat**_," he observed with mirth. "It was you."

"You locked your sister in a tower," Danu asked her son.

"For her own good," Oberon shouted pointing toward the young woman in question. "She has no judgment," he waved then at Bran and the Lords of Darkness. "Look at the company she keeps… she allowed that thing to sully her…Her! A princess of the High Fae Order! A member of the Royal family…."

"You took her baby from her arms," Danu repeated the charge she'd heard but could not believe her son capable of.

"I removed the abomination," Oberon stated coldly.

"By what justification," Dagda hissed.

"I am the High King!" Oberon glowered.

"A self given title," Dagda countered. "I never crowned you a king, nor would I. I had intended that all Fae could and should enjoy the benefits of Avalon. I knew it was a mistake to allow you to set up a court."

"The damages are done," Danu said reflectively. "He is the accepted High King, and to change things now would only mean chaos." She frowned at the smug look that has come to her son's face. "However in the matter of your sister," Danu looked over at her daughter. "I say she has chosen her life, let her live it."

Bran snuggled, and nuzzled his beloved. "Thank you, mother." He addressed Danu. "I have longed for my wife… and now she is at my side."

"Wife," scoffed Oberon under his breath. "You abducted and seduced her…. Just as that miscreant she gave birth to is doing to that poor mortal child right now!"

Bran felt his wife stiffen at the insult; he looked over at Oberon with flames in his blue eyes. "I did not abduct your sister," his voice was exceedingly steady and calm. "I sought her company, and upon seeing her alone, set apart from others of your oh so pretty community, I invited her to come away with me. She agreed," Bran kissed her cheek reverently.

As if this proved his line of reasoning, Oberon scoffed looking toward Danu, "I told you that your daughter has no judgment!"

"This labyrinth that you detest so much," Bran continued as if Oberon had not made his insulting remark, "Was my gift to my bride," raising the hand of the woman in his arms, he kissed her fingers tenderly. "A living breathing extension of the love I have for her." Olwyn blushed lightly. Bran was now looking into her eyes, "Here our child was conceived, and should have been born."

Olwyn lowered her head, ashamed. "I only meant to collect my belongs; I had not meant to be away so long."

"I know love, I know," Bran assured her, before directing his next statement to Oberon. "I could have invaded your island, could have destroyed each and every spire in your palace of falsehoods… At her request I did not. We came to an agreement that she and the child would stay on Avalon to keep peace…" gentle hands soothed the troubled woman. "It was her wish that our child learn of both sides of his parentage… That he enjoy the benefits of both his worlds. Had I known that you would separate them, mother and son, I would have torn your palace apart brick by brick. Had I know how my son would suffer…." Bran paused calming himself. "You interfered in my life, in the life of my wife and for too long in the life of my son."

"Like father like son," Oberon insulted. "You beguiled and forced yourself upon my sister just as your son is doing to the mortal girl…"

"I invited your sister, and gave her a courting gift," Bran countered with amusement, he reased up one gloved hand. In a flash of sparkling light an orb appeared in the gloved hand, shimmering and glowing. When the shimmer dissipated, in the hand of the Dark Lord sat a peach. He extended his gift once more to his bride, she took it with joy. "I never forced your sister, I persuaded her with devoted affection."

"And your son," questioned Oberon unable to give up. "Is he using devoted affection on that poor human he's keeping captive?"

Bran chuckled softly, "As the storm has broken, I would assume so."

Oberon looked over head, "Time has been released," he observed.

Dagda looked toward the castle; it didn't look quite so odd any longer. "I suggest we allow the newly wedded couple within to sleep."

"Wedded," Oberon shook his head, "They are not wed," he argued. "She is nothing more than a mortal captive. Just an ordinary girl being held by goblins," he could see there was no winning, and crossing his arms pursed his lips. "I tire of this folly. Olwyn, if you wish to remain here do so…however know this, you and your… consort will not be welcome on Avalon."

"We have no need of your perfect paradise," Bran said, looking at the small but significant changes taking place around them. "We have our own." With a wave of his gloved hand he opened a portal, "Allow me to give thee safe passage." Oberon marched past the gathering, followed by Rogan and Periwinkle. The three moved into the portal and it closed. "He didn't say fair thee well," Bran mused.

The four Immortals looked at the High Lord of the Darkness and his Fae wife. Dagda spoke first. "Blessings on you my daughter, and your chosen husband."

"Should you ever need us," Arawn added.

"Yes," agreed Danu. "Should you ever need us…"

"For any reason," Scáthach mused with a smile for the couple.

"We'll call," Olwyn promised as she turned to embrace her husband. The four Immortals turned and sauntered away, as if on a morning stroll. Goblins bid them save journey. The Dark Lords gathered about the embracing pair waved fare well to the departing elders.

Hoggle now standing a short distance away looked up at the Goblin Castle, feeling a gloved hand come to his shoulder, he looked at its owner. Puck smiled down at the gardener and gave him a saucy little wink. "Come my little friend," he coaxed. "I know of a pub that never closes, where the ale flows like an endless river."

"I know the place," Hoggle's eyes opened widely, "With serving wenches who are most comely, and very agreeable." Turning, he joined Puck and forgot the couple in the castle.

Bran looked adoringly at Olwyn, "Let us leave Jareth and his pretty for now," he begged. "I wish to welcome you back, properly." He looked at the Flock. "Away my lords, we will this night celebrate the return of my bride." In a dark swirl of glittering sparkles the entire court of the Dark that had been present vanished. Goblins in the courtyard snickered, some danced and other lounged lazily on the stones.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18.**

Snuggling into the warm body that was spooned against him, Jareth slept as he had never done. The bed in his chamber had never felt so welcoming, or so complete. His arms held the sleeping young woman tenderly, aware of her, but content to sleep.

Sarah awoke from the dream, opening her eyes languidly. Her body ached in palaces she didn't even know she could ache. Her eyes were not focusing, and she gradually became aware that things felt out of place, and different. She forced her eyes open and gasped loudly as she saw the room she had just awoken it. This chamber, this wide opulent and decidedly masculine was not her room. The weight of the arm over her had not caught her attention, but the sun streaming in the arched window did. "Oh no," she said aloud. "Oh no!"

"Go back to sleep," a voice beside her mumbled. "It's still early…"

"It's later than you think," she retorted pulling the blanket about her. She moved off the bed, tucking up the blanket to cover her nakedness. Moving toward the arched window she could see that the sun had indeed risen, and she was still in the Castle beyond the Goblin City. She felt panic rising, as she turned to the bed and its lone occupant. "Its morning!" she barked hostility.

Leaning on an elbow, Jareth cradled his head in his hand. "So I see," he mused. "But it's still early, come back to bed," he invited in a comely tone, patting the mattress with his free hand.

Sarah stared at him, repeating her announcement, "Its morning!"

"Yes," Jareth agreed sweetly. "So I see."

The girl marched back toward the bed, "Its morning, you released time and I'm still here!"

"Yes," he nodded with a lovely smile. "You are."

"Don't look so pleased with your-self," she commanded. "This is not… it's inexcusable… I can't stay here!"

"Why not," he asked with amusement. "This is your home now."

"This is not my home, it's your home," she argued.

"What's mine is yours," he murmured tenderly. "Is that not what a husband does, give his possessions to his wife?"

"What are you talking about," she pulled back, confused and disturbed by his words. "I'm not your wife,"

"Of course you are," he insisted. "Sarah, please sit down… you look terribly uncomfortable trying to hold up that blanket, hiding the treasures that I've so richly enjoyed… Please dear, sit…" he pointed to the edge of the bed. "Please."

Gathering the heavy blanket, with as much dignity as she could muster, she took a seat as far on the edge as she could and still be seated. "I am not your wife," she insisted again.

"According to the old laws, you are." He informed her with amusement. "Why else would I release time?"

"This is just another one of your tricks," she pouted unhappily.

"Not this time," he softened his voice. "Sarah, don't be so sad," he pleaded.

Green eyes looked at him with doubts, "How can I not be sad," she asked. "You tricked me."

"No," he said with a wistful smile. "I asked you to love me, and you did." He reached out to touch her tenderly. "You do."

"That's beside the point," she argued.

"That is the point," he insisted as he drew up to a seated position himself. "Not that I realized it until this very moment myself," he chuckled. "I was all into my own hurt and anger… I wanted~ payback… revenge…" his eyes were no longer demanding, no longer angry. "What I really wanted, perhaps from the start was just to be loved." Softly he explained. "I never knew love as a youth… my family were not what you humans call supportive."

She rested her back against the headboard and sniffed, "I can't blame you for that… I know what it's like not to feel loved… even if you are, you don't feel it."

His hand moved to hers, knotting her fingers with his. "We are so much alike," he mused. "Fate must have decreed our union."

"I can't be married," she sighed closing her eyes, "I'm only fifteen…"

"I don't understand that as a problem," Jareth confessed.

The girl looked over at him, "Try this then," her voice sounded most depressed. "I'm going to grow old and you're going to," she waved a hand at his fit and lean body. "Stay like that…" Confused the young King considered her words. "I'm mortal, human," she continued. "I'll grow old and die and you'll still be… you."

"Ah," he answered quietly. "Were I to tell you that your facts are off, would it make you less resistant?" When her face turned inquisitive he smiled at her. "For a girl who collects fairytales like other's collect butterfly wings, you certainly don't seem to know very much about how they work," he teased.

"I beg your pardon," she glared as she pulled back from his hand.

Taking no insult, he laughed gently. "Oh Sarah, educating you is going to be such fun."

"Educating me," she gasped and barked. "How dare you?" She hiked the blanket up higher, "The nerve of you!"

Delighted and amused, Jareth teased. "It's a little late for modesty, Sarah."

Blushing Sarah turned to look away, while making sure nothing was showing. "You were saying," she glowered.

"Sarah, you accepted the invitation into my realm, you were not forced. Having entered her freely, you took the first steps in your… transformation on your own." He explained gingerly.

"I didn't accept any invitation," she countered. "You high jacked me!"

"Not the first time," wisely he noted. "You stepped through the window on your own… I only had to point to the castle," he laughed.

"I came to rescue my brother," she argued. "Not to be…wooed."

"But woo you I did," he teased.

"Some wooing," bitterness seeped into her tone, "Chasing me with the cleaners."

"That may have been over the top," he admitted softly. "However you did insult my Labyrinth…" She opened her mouth, ready to protest, however a raised brow, closed her mouth. Reaching out a hand he touched her face, tenderly. "So many things happened to you here for a reason… the first being the bite you received from the fairy at the gate." He saw her surprise and he murmured. "Did you think I was not watching your every step?"

Sarah looked down at the fingers, still showing a little red mark. "That bite hurt," she pouted.

"That bite was more than just a bite," Jareth reached for her fingers, kissing the red mark. "It helped to create changes in you, which would have taken much longer." Releasing her hand he looked deeply into her eyes. "You have fears that you will grow old and die," he stated calmly. "That won't happen for a very, very, very long time."

"But I'm human," she said still not understanding.

"You were," he agreed. "You're more a changeling now."

Sarah lifted the finger that had been bitten and looked at it. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm serious," he said calmly. "That bite, and the peach…" he cleared his throat guiltily.

Shifting her gaze from the fingers to his face she narrowed her gaze. "That peach…" she glowered. "The one you claim was a~ peace offering."

"It was," Jareth said with a guilty tone. "It was also… the means to bind you to me…" When her eyes darkened with anger he added. "And no one forced you to take a bite."

Flustered, she closed her eyes and huffed. "I was hungry!"

"Again, Sarah, for a girl who knows fairy stories as well as you do," he scoffed.

Green eyes opened and she sat upright, "Oh no," she slapped her forehead with her hand. "How could I be so… dumb?"

"Ah," he teased, "Dawns the realization!"

Groaning she collapsed onto the bed, "So I'm stuck here?"

"Well that's not the best way to look at it, but…" he watched her languish, and wallow in self pity. "Yes, darling… you're stuck here."

"But I went back home," she protested.

"Yes," Jareth acknowledge. "You did." Now he was feeling bitter. "You ran off with all the game pieces."

"It's not a game," she moaned into the bed.

"Isn't it," he asked distractedly.

"No," she said sitting up. "This is serious," her tone was humorless. "What are my parents going to do when they go to my room and find I'm not there?" He looked away and she added. "They are going to notice…"

Shaking his head, he disagreed. "No they won't," his voice muttered. "They won't know you ever existed…."

"That's not possible!" She barked.

Jareth didn't want to look over at her; he didn't want to see the anger, the pain and the disappointment that was going to be in the green eyes. "Sarah, take my word for it, they won't know."

"What did you do," she demanded.

"When you and I…" he pointed to the bed, "I released time, but I erased all trace of you from the mortal realm," he admitted, adding. "It's what's done when a mortal becomes one of us."

"You've done this before?" She asked aghast.

"No," he grabbed her hand, "You are the only… mortal… I've ever loved." Sighing he answered the question she had not asked. "When a child is wished away, and comes here, all memory of that child is erased."

"That's horrible," she lamented.

"It is a serious thing," Jareth agreed, "Wishing someone away."

Ashamed she'd done just that to poor little Toby, Sarah hung her head. "I had no idea the words would work… I was just being mean and…" looking at Jareth she shrugged. "I was just being mean."

"I know," he said softly. "Had I arrived before the goblins had… it would have been different."

"What do you mean had you arrived," she looked at him quizzically.

"You called to me," he said in a voice that was filled with longing. "You asked that someone come and save you…"

"And you came and took the baby away," she frowned.

"No, Sarah," he corrected gently. "The goblins came and took the baby that you offered away." He gave her a hungry look, "I was coming for you, not Toby."

"I'm fifteen," she gulped loudly.

Cocking his head to one side, and giving her a confused gaze, Jareth asked. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"I'm just a kid," she protested.

"Really," he growled suggestively. "That was no kid who exhausted me," he teased.

"Pervert," she said blushing.

Jareth offered her his hand, "Take it," he said convincingly, "As a measure of peace between us."

"Can there be a peace between us," she asked staring at his hand. "Won't there always be this…competition?"

Lowering his hand he mulled over her question. "I suppose there may be," he admitted. "You won the first round, and I to save face dragged you back here for round two…"

"Which you won," she lamented pitifully. "Not fairly, but you won."

"I would say it was a draw," he offered.

Sarah could not conceive of him being so accommodating. "You didn't win fairly," she sniffled, holding back tears. "And I won't surrender, or let you rule me."

"But you will let me love you," he said quietly. She turned to look at him oddly. "Perhaps that's the key to us being able to live with one another."

"What are you talking about," she asked still pouting.

"I offer you a~ compromise," he said thinking it out as he spoke. "I won't try to rule you, if you don't try to rule me." His hand rose again, extended to her. "Take my hand and agree to love me."

"This is silly," she said staring at his hand, wondering if it were a trap.

"For the sake of peace within our castle, our home… and our family, Sarah," he moaned. "Take my hand and agree to love me."

"What family," she asked in disbelieve. "You, me and the goblins?"

Placing his hand over her abdomen, Jareth said, "You, me and our little goblin," his eyes were bright as stars.

"Our little," she repeated before she gasped.

"Take my hand, and agree to love me," he whispered.

"I can't have a baby!" she complained.

Jareth smiled, "I assure you, you can… and will…"

Sarah looked down, his hand was warm, and strangely it was familiar and comforting. "A baby?"

"My wife," he whispered longingly. "Take my hand… love me…"

Sarah, closed her eyes, the words of the wise man as he'd exited her bedroom rang in her ears. "Sometimes to lose gracefully is to win," she said aloud. Understanding the deepest meaning as if it had always been there, she reached for Jareth's hand. "And we both save face."

Jareth considered her statement, "I lost my heart to you, the moment I set eyes upon you," he confessed. "Love me, sweet Sarah…love me." His arms moved to embrace her; "My wife."

"That's going to take getting use to," she whispered into his shoulder as he pulled her closer.

"We have centuries," murmured the Goblin King to his Queen rolling gently until they were once more one.

_**Fin**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**Confrontation**_

The king sat on the massive throne, spectacles on his nose, digesting the words on the scroll. He could hear the clamor of the voices as the Scribe was led into the chamber. He didn't bother to look up, he was aware of the violence she was administering to his minions. Jareth read the scroll over and lowered it once the Scribe was more or less standing before him. He waited.

The Scribe took one final swing at the sinewy creature who was grasping for her. "Take your grimy mitts off!" she screamed before looking toward the presence seated on the throne. "What's the matter this time?" Her voice was full of fury as she knocked the goblin holding onto her flat on his backside. "Stay down, damn it!" She barked.

"Okay," huffed the goblin, too worn to resist.

"Thank you for answering my summons," Jareth said teasingly. "So promptly, Scribe."

Huffing and puffing she advanced and shot warning looks to goblins about the room. None moved, they feared her nearly as much as they feared Jareth. "What's the complaint this time? I didn't make you wimpy, and I didn't make you sadistic."

"NO," he grumbled, "You made me a child molester." He tossed the scroll at her.

Ducking, the scroll missed hitting her and doing damages. "I did not," she denied.

"Did so," he barked back hunkering down and glowering at her.

"I did not."

Stormy eyes glared at her, "I know something of the laws of the above, Paisley… I have to seeing as I do have a trade with them." She rolled her eyes and he stormed. "You've written her under age!"

"Only if you were to pursue her Above," Paisley shouted overjoyed at having a trump card. "I checked and Periwinkle said. That if you were to pursue a mortal on mortal ground, you would be answerable to mortal law."

"You checked with whom?" Jareth growled.

"Periwinkle," Paisley answered as if it were common to commune with Fae. "Anyway, he said that as you pursued the girl here, in the Underground you were only answerable to the laws of this land…. And as you still follow an antiquated existence, she's not under aged." Crossing her arms and thinking she'd had the last say, Paisley snorted.

"What a woman," crowed the goblin lying on his back.

"Shut up," Jareth and the Scribe barked in unison.

Jareth steepled his fingers. "Paisley," he growled. "It would seem you've scathed through yet another tale…" his eyes were challenging, "On a technicality."

"I don't do hours of research for nothing," she defended her honor.

Exasperated, and seeing there was no winning an argument here today, Jareth conceded. "Fine, you win…" AS the Scribe turned to leave he shouted. "But I don't want to look a fool!"

"Oh for heaven's sake," she snarled. "No woman in her right mind is going to deny that she'd trade places with silly old Sarah in a heartbeat… and few if any would have given you the hard time Sarah did…"

"Paisley," he warned. "Just stop making me look like a child molester!" He demanded. "At least make her legal next time."

"What makes you think there'll be a next time, fancy pants?" Paisley shouted over her shoulder as she stalked out.

Jareth chuckled as the goblins came out of hiding. "There's always a next time…" he laughed.


End file.
